


We are the glitch in the Matrix

by kiirian



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual!Jon, Fluff, God!Jon, Going back in time au, Jon is powerful, M/M, Martin and the tale of teaching others how emotions work, Monster!Jon, Polyamory, and he is kind of okay with being a monster, everyone is on board, flirting your way into a happy ending, jonah and micheal enemies to lovers, smitten!Elias, so who knows about that happy ending, softbastard!Elias, trying to rewrite time is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 85,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiirian/pseuds/kiirian
Summary: Getting a second chance isn't easy. It means putting in all of the work once again while fully knowing the price of failure. Yet it can be worth it. Jon knows it will be worth it. If only everyone else decided to work with him instead of doing their best to make his work hard. There is only so far that his powers and flirting with Micheal are going to get him.(the travel back in time AU)
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael | The Distortion/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 112
Kudos: 270





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Jon does when he wakes up is checking his phone. He knocks his glasses off the table while reaching for it. The loud cracking sound doesn’t bother him as much as the date shown on the screen.

He is back.

He both knows and **knows** it. He can feel the Beholding watching him, but for now, he just exhales and falls back on his bed with the phone still clutched in his hand. He feels strangely protective of it, like letting go would mean transporting back to the Apocalypse. Like letting go would mean watching Martin and Basira…

He doesn’t follow this thought. Instead, he focuses on Martin that is there, the one that is currently snoring inside his flat. Jon feels his lips twitch in an involuntary smile. Martin is sleeping on his back, with a blanket thrown haphazardly atop his belly. His curls lay untamed on the pillow and he looks almost tanned compared to his look after the Lonely. His freckles go over his nose and are prominent even on his neck and chest. His brow furrows as his dream takes him somewhere unfamiliar but soon smooths out.

Something makes a sound in another room. A bang like something has hit the wall. It reminds Jon that Martin and his relationship with his mother, the one who sees his father in him. Which causes Martin lots of pain. But this is something for later. Jon looks over him once again but soon turns his Eyes somewhere else. He doesn’t want to be too creepy about the whole watching thing. He only needs to make sure everyone is safe for now.

Even though he feels like he could just look at Martin for a little longer. Just to make sure he is really there.

Another snore leaves Martin’s mouth and Jon relents. If everything goes well he may have a chance to watch it live instead of spying. He turns his Eyes to Sasha.

And blinks.

Well, this makes looking for Tim so much easier. They are both inside Sasha’s flat, lying naked on the bed. Fortunately, there are sheets over them, but Jon still feels the heat of embarrassment. Tim has thrown his hand over Sasha’s hips and has his nose burrowed in her neck. They look very comfortable on her plush bed.

Jon takes a quick look around and notices some photographs looking over them. He will need to think things through. Having the Ceaseless Watcher and also Elias capable of spying on his assistants has the benefit of safety. Or at least it should have if Elias cared about his employees. Still, if Jon plays it right maybe the Eye will help him.

He comes back to his body, still lying on his bed. He doesn’t think he could check on Elias without notifying him something is wrong. Even though Jon is the more powerful of the two Elias has power over the Institute. Over its workers. This means that the more time Jon has to set everything in its place the better.

He just really hasn’t thought this through. He acted on instinct, not because of some elaborate plan. Jonah is good at those. Maybe they should have a little chat in the Panopticon. A vision of Jon simply strolling inside to talk to the eyeless body comes to his mind. He could take a photo and send it to Elias. Maybe it would give him a heart attack.

Jon chuckles to himself but has to stop before it turns hysterical. He finally lets go of his phone and stands up. He knows what he must do first. Sasha needs protection from the Stranger. He rolls his shoulder. He doesn’t exactly remember how Jonathan Sims used to feel at this point in time, but he feels pretty good all things considered. He knows that the scars have traveled with him. He can feel the burns on his forearm tugging whenever he uses his arm. There may be some explaining needed for his assistant. Maybe even a lie for Elias.

Jon turns to his wardrobe and looks for something comfortable. He has a long day ahead. A pair of old jeans and a sweater look like something he would wear for a movie night with Georgie. He takes them with him to the bathroom. He turns on the light. It is the same small bathroom it always was. A shower sits in one corner, barely large enough for someone with wide shoulders, which has never been a problem for Jon. A toilet in another corner and a sink with a mirror above it just across the door. The tiles were painted in a rather ugly shade of blue.

Jon’s eyes fly to a cobweb just under the ceiling. Next, he looks into the mirror and just like he thought the scars are there. So is the gray in his hair. And his hair is long, even longer than he remembers. There were no mirrors in the apocalypse after all.

“Hello there. Do tell your master I am going to need a little bit of help with turning things around here.” He tells the spider hiding on the web.

He rummages through the cabinet and soon comes across a pair of scissors. He catches his hair in a tight fist and cuts them just above his shoulders. It doesn’t look professional, but he can now tie them without too much struggle. He throws the ones in his hand into the bin and leaves the scissors on the sink.

He turns to his shower and with a prolonged sigh he takes off his pajama pants and gets in. The water is cold at first, but he just stands under it. Soon it turns warmer, but not until it is scalding hot can he finally bring himself to move. It makes him think of fires and what he has left behind which is a good motivator. He quickly leathers and rinses himself. He takes more time to take care of his hair. He feels like layers and layers of dust are falling off him. And with them gone he feels lighter. He even has some conditioner, bough by Georgie when he told her about wanting to grow his hair out. He considers it for a moment, before, with a quick thought of ‘new timeline, new me’ putting it on his hair. It smells nice. He is gripped with a sudden sense that he hasn’t smelled anything so nice and normal for too long. He feels like crying but his eyes remain dry. Or as dry as they can be under the falling water.

‘So I know if my monstrosity has traveled with me.’ He thinks with a grim smile.

He lets the water wash away the conditioner. He gently runs his fingers through his short hair to found them silky and smooth. They smell like strawberries. He stays under the water a little longer. His scars are sooted by the constant stream.

He looks down at himself. Besides his memories, the power thrumming under his skin there is also his gone rib that connects him to the world that will never happen. It is the only thing that makes him sure it wasn’t just a long nightmare. Even though he **knows** it wasn’t, it is good to also know. To be able to create a logical argument for the conclusion he arrives at.

He turns off the water and gets out. He uses the nearest towel to get dry. Just as he is going to put on his clothes he realizes there are no boxers on the pile. He has forgotten his boxers. This time he cannot help the laugh that is too hysterical to be healthy. He is the Archivist. He is the Archive. And he has forgotten to take his underwear when he went to shower. He clutches the sink to stay upright as laughter wrecks through him. It finally brings some tears to his eyes. Maybe the only tears he will be able to produce.

He finally gets a hold of himself. He tugs his sweater on and goes looking for a fresh pair of boxers with a towel secured around his middle. He finds them just where he always put them, the second drawer of his wardrobe. He makes sure not to pick the ones he had on during the Apocalypse. He even considers throwing them away. Being superstitious always looked silly to him, but there is no use pushing his luck. He puts on his underwear, then goes back to the bathroom to hang his towel and pick up his jeans. He judges his stubble as fine-looking. It makes him look less like a librarian and more like a tired dad. He even considers sending Georgie a picture, before deciding he needs to talk to her first. Another thought for later.

He goes to his kitchen to make some coffee. He decides to wait for Martin with tea. It would feel sacrilegious to drink tea without him. Instead, he makes the blackest coffee he can. It is smooth and rich in taste. He knows for certain he got those beans from Elias. The man is useful for some things. With a cup of coffee in one hand, Jon looks over his flat. It is just like it used to be. He almost feels like an impostor inside his own kitchen.

His living room isn’t exactly messy. There are books everywhere, his laptop is laying on his coffee table and there are some blankets on the sofa from som late-night TV watching. It feels lived in. Not like the flat, he remembers from after Prentiss’s attack. Or not the one he came back to after being dead.

‘First Sasha. Then Prentiss. The Stranger is going to fail anyway, but Tim will want some closure. And Jonah. We are going to need some eye to eye. ‘ Jon takes another sip. ‘I probably need to look into Gerard and his page. Maybe keep Leitner alive this time.’ 

He decides to check on Leitner later when he gets to the Archive. He looks up, feeling almost a Pavlovian response to thinking about the Institute. He feels the Eye and a part of him wants to be able to look at the sky and see it blink. He wants the power that courses through him to envelop the world. He wants to feel fear magnified by living in a constant nightmare, not just an echo of it from people’s dreams. He wants… He doubles in pain. There is a seething pain in his head. He uses it to wrestle back the control over himself. He feels the Archive receding to the fringes of his mind.

“We are not going there.” He mumbles through clenched teeth. “We are going to save everyone.”

The power doesn’t answer. He considers it more of a force of nature than a sentient being, but it is always there with him. He puts the empty cup in the sink. The sun is finally rising over the horizon. He needs to get out, to get to the cafe, and talk to the being that so desperately wanted to become his friend. He wonders if the being called Micheal will be surprised when he reaches out. Or if it will be interested in playing a little game with Jonah Magnus.


	2. chptr 2

London is very rarely quiet, but in the early hours of the morning without tourists strolling around Jon can almost feel at peace. Cars passing him by seem almost like a novelty after so much time traveling between nightmares. He cannot help himself with glancing at other people, which does make them think he is a creep.

A student standing next to him at the station makes sure she still has her pepper spray in her pocket. He wants to go to her to apologize but knows that isn’t a good idea. Especially after staring at her without blinking for almost five minutes.

‘Good job, Simms. You are doing really well with assimilating with society.’ He chides himself in a voice that sounds nearly too much like Melanie. 

He makes sure to stare ahead while he waits another few minutes. Inside the train, he takes a sit far from her. He knows she had some run-ins with a mugger or two during the last two months. She is still rattled by them and doesn’t leave her house without her pepper spray. _She was coming back from a late night at her collage, a night of studying that turned into a night of gossiping. She had transferred to London only a month ago so finding someone to talk to was good._

_Not that Laura ever had problems with founding people to spend time with. No, she was quite an outgoing girl with a tendency to get herself in trouble. She was always out there with the boys. But once she had grown she got into physics and no longer had time to just go around the block to smoke or drink a few beers every evening. She wanted to study in London and after a few unpleasant exams, she got to move out of her town. Which meant she was alone, in a big city and had most of her time taken by studying._

_She jumped right in when one of the other few girls in her group proposed a study session. She thought begrudgingly about the Laura that had agreed to stay out so late. That Laura had been much braver than the one skipping her steps on her way to the Underground station. She clutched one of the books in her arms. It didn’t fit inside her backpack, which was already full because she had proposed using her laptop to make notes. Another stupid mistake._

_She nearly missed a sound of steps approaching from one of the allies she was so hastily passing by. Someone stumbled out of one of them. He appeared so suddenly she nearly jumped back. A large, brown coat covered most of the man’s body, but she could still see brown hair sticking out around where the head should be._

_T_ _he second she took to take in the stranger cost her her balance. Her foot landed weirdly on the pavement and she had to stop so she wouldn’t twist her ankle. She thought of joking about the man scaring her, a thing she would do while talking to a friend. But that wasn’t a friendly situation and the man on the pavement wasn’t moving. He just laid where he fell. It put her in a troubling position. She wanted to ignore him and run to the station. But it also wouldn’t be humane to leave someone who might have had a medical problem._

_“Sir, are you alright?” Her voice trembled a little._

_She was cursing herself for saying anything, waiting for the man to answer with a slurred voice. She was almost hoping he would do that._

_There was no response. The man was lying motionless, his limbs bend in strange angles._

_“Is everything okay?” She took another step closer._

_She tried checking whatever the man was breathing by just looking at him. His coat proved to be too big and she couldn’t with a clear conscious say he was. She weighed her options. She still had that train to catch. The night was cold, but not cold enough for the man to freeze. She thought about calling an ambulance but threw that option away as it would mean waiting for them to arrive._

_Finally, she made a decision. She turned away from the body and marched on toward the train station. Just as she was passing next to it, it twitched. It wasn’t a big twitch, no it was just a small movement she caught at the peripheral of her vision. She wiped her head to look at the man. He seemed to be laying in the same position she saw him. She turned her head around, not to lose her balance. Just as she was going to stare right ahead the body moved once again. She was sure of it. She stopped in her tracks. Took a long breath. With a stomp, she turned towards the body._

_“Sir, is there something you want?”_

_She expected silence. She thought there would be no movement. She wasn’t exactly wrong. The body didn’t move as a person should. It twitched like there was something besides a man’s body underneath the coat it was wearing. It slowly rose up, in a manner she had never seen before. The legs moved first. Knees bent, planting feet on the pavement making the body look like it was squatting or doing some weird yoga pose. The upper torso was still laying on the floor, but it soon followed. The head was dangling, going from side to side. The hands dragged across the road, but once the man started rising the fists clenched._

_“And here I thought you were one of the smart ones.” The man’s head was still down, which made his voice muffled and hard to hear._

_She almost felt like she was listening to someone talking through a cloth._

_“I don’t understand. And I don’t believe I care. You are clearly alright. I think it is time for me to leave.” Laura stood taller and tried to keep her voice steady._

_“Thought you would know better.” The man continued as he hadn’t heard her. “But that’s fine. Even more than fine.”_

_She could no longer see his back but she could have sworn it was still twitching. She could bet on it since the twitching was enveloping his whole frame. She had been in a few fights before. And she also knew when to hang the towel and run._ _She did just that, without any further thought._

_She sprung towards the station, hoping against hope there would be someone there despite the hour. She couldn’t hear the man’s steps but she could hear different sounds. Something buzzing in the air, like a large swarm. She didn’t want to look back, too focused on running but the street was so long, it had never been this long, she finally had to take a look._

_The man was chasing her. His face was finally up and in the lights of the lamp they passed, she could see it. The skin, whenever there was any left, was yellow and soggy. It looked old even though the man had no wrinkles._

_Most of his face was filled by holes. Holes that created a pattern that looked like a honeycomb. It went around his eyes and mouth, making it seem like his eye was ready to roll out of its socket. The man wasn’t alone. Now it seemed like he was smaller, all that was filling the coat before swarming around him. She would have guessed those were insects if she had time to make guesses._

_Instead, she turned her head to see where she was running and reached into one of her pockets. There was a present she got from her older sister. Something she never had to use before and never thought she would have to after those self-defense classes._

_She clutched pepper spray in her hand, turned around, and threw the book she was still holding right into the man. He was a few feet behind her and she aimed perfectly into his midsection. The book didn’t slow him down, but she could see his surprise and used the spray. She almost wished she had a lighter, but it turned out to be enough. The insects came down with a sad buzz and the man screamed. His scream echoed across the street in a way that made no sense._

_Laura didn’t stay behind to check what happened next, she ran down the stairs leading to the station. They seemed to appear out of nowhere and she had no time to think if they had always been there._

* * *

Jon snaps out of the involuntary statement he has extracted. Laura is still sitting in the same train car as he is, but she seems engrossed in another book. She feels safer when there are people around. He **knows** she hasn’t been infested by the worms, for which he is glad. He wouldn’t have wanted to kill the poor girl.

He also knows that Prentiss is close. He tries to ignore a satisfying feeling in his stomach after receiving a filling statement. It makes his fingers curl with pleasure and the power humming under his skin almost sings. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. He can think about the logistics of being around people later. The train has just reached his station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm relistening to the whole Magnus Archive instead of finding out how te whole story ends. sue me (or please don't, I have to buy ma cat's food...)


	3. chptr 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-harm (in the name of summoning an ancient power, but it still counts)

He marches slowly down the street and reminisces about his options. There is a possibility of Micheal not showing up. Or the being may show up and just laugh to his face. Or maybe it will take great pleasure from betraying Jon when he needs it most. The Spiral is tricky. Yet out of all the monsters, he knew Micheal and later Helen stuck for the longest. And only tried to kill him a few times. Which makes them almost allies. 

He finally reaches the cafe. It is still closed, but the seats outside are prepared for future guests. Jon can see commotion inside, the baristas starting up big coffee machines, a waiter wiping the tables. He **knows** they don’t mind people sitting in the chairs outside when the rush hour is still far off. They won’t bother him unless he starts littering. The chairs and the tables are made out of metal so no one is exactly scared of someone doing any damage to them. They are instead supposed to drag them inside every night so no one steals one of them to sell as scrap. Jon chooses a seat looking out on the street.

He lets his bag rest against the table’s leg and sits down. It is uncomfortable. In half an hour a waitress is supposed to bring pillows for the chairs. She is eyeing Jon from the inside. He doesn’t turn his head so she won’t see a weird glow surrendering his eyes. The windows sometimes reveal too much. All she sees is a middle-aged man slumping in one of their seats. 

Jon stops himself from looking at her. He knows he is stalling. He is also unsure how to exactly call out to Micheal. The doors he can see lead to different apartment buildings and a few shops. It doesn’t give the same vibes as the dark corridors of the institute or his office. Out of ideas, Jon takes out a pen and a notebook from his bag, feeling stupid even before he starts. In the worst-case scenario, it doesn’t work. Or if it works he is going to be laughed at by Micheal. He even finds the thought strangely comforting.

He opens the notebook and starts to draw. At first, he pushes the pen too strongly and almost tears the paper. He tries to correct his mistake but instead, he makes the line too light. He feels frustration slowly building in his stomach. It bubbles with each stroke not being good enough. He doesn’t relent. To guide the Spiral to him he makes a spiral appear on the sheet of paper. He finishes with no fanfare. The blue ink has no power behind it. Micheal isn’t there. He sighs and thinks about trying again. Instead, another idea comes to him. It rings right like he **knows** it will work. Yet id doesn’t feel like something given to him by the Beholding. Nor something he has wretched out of its grasps for himself.

The idea worms its way into his consciousness and he follows it. He takes no notice that the street is empty. Or that the bustling from the inside of the cafe is gone. The knowledge of what to do overcomes his senses.

He bulges up one of the sleeves of his sweater. He looks at his arm, the one unburned by the Flame. His eyes move towards the pen he is holding. It would be easier with a knife, yet he has to make do. The other possible solution is using his keys.

He drops his pen and reaches to the pocket of his jeans. The metal is cool under his palm. When he takes out the keys they jingle and some stray light catches on them giving them a strange glow. The glow doesn’t follow the shape of the keys or at least as Jon remembers his keys were shaped. They look too sharp. Which makes them perfect for what he needs to do.

He presses the pointed end of one of the keys to his arm. He creates the shape of the spiral with a steady hand, its curves perfect. The power inside him gently guides him, acting as the best painkiller he ever came across. It **knows** what he is supposed to do because it has decided what will bring the Spiral’s avatar to him.

Once the spiral is finished Jon lets the keys fall to the table. He is panting. Each breath he takes makes the wound pulse. He moves his forearm over the table to make sure no blood falls on his jeans. He considers looking for a napkin or anything to tame the blood flow. He is unprepared for someone to catch his wrist and pull the wounded arm further over the table.

And just like that the being called Micheal is there with him.

“You are full of surprises Archivist.” It tells him while looking over his arm.

It sounds both amused and curious. There is also faint fascination in its eyes as it turns his hand around.

“I don’t think it counts when I even surprise myself.” Jon looks at it and feels something warm when Michael looks up to catch his eyes.

It smiles too widely. There are too many teeth in its mouth to fit them all. 

“It certainly does.” It giggles. “Now then, I believe there is a reason why you decided to bring me to this lovely place.”

It doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand. It presses its fingers into the warm skin, letting him feel how sharp they can be.

“Yes, I did.” Jon clears his throat. “I called you because I am going to need your help.”

It looks delighted.

“The Archivist needs my help.” It laughs with its many voices. The laugh echoes around them. “Who would have expected that? And what would my help entail?”

It presses its thumb into Jon’s pulse point. His heart is running five miles per hour. He can feel his skin knitting itself back. He doesn’t take a chance to look down, to see the scar forming in the place of the wound. 

“My friendship. And a front sit in bringing chaos into a plan over one hundred years old.”

Michael hums. Its thumb starts to gently move across the skin, from the left side to the right. Its eyes don’t leave Jon’s and it is too tempting not to check its mind. 

Jon wants to only take a peek, to see what it thinks about the whole idea. He only has to tune himself to its mind, he has done it before even without noticing. Yet when he tries to reach it something goes wrong. He starts falling, falling down in circles. He can sense one thought, but it is cut short by another. From that, another two thoughts appear at the same time. They merge into one before disappearing completely. 

At the center of it all is laughter so loud Jon wants to cover his ears. Instead, he lets his instinct take over. It leads him to follow a different trail. Instead of tunning to its thoughts, he follows its emotions. 

They aren’t much different, just as confusing. Jon is ready for this. Emotions are always messy. He can never exactly guess what they mean when he gets to read them. There is amusement in Micheal but also a certain fondness. It is fascinated and curious. He feels its interest coming through him like a wave. It starts as a tingle in his toes and goes up. It is warm but also scary. To be the center of anyone's attention is scary. To be the center of attention of a monster is terrifying. 

‘I also count as one of them.’ Jon reminds himself and lets go of the emotions that don’t belong to him.

Instead, he focuses on the thumb with too many joints still pressing into his skin. He focuses on the lightness of Micheal’s hair, the sun making them look like a halo. Its eyes sparkle as it considers him.

“You are spoiling me, Archivist.” It smiles. “I will be all too happy to help you.”

Jon twists around the arm being held by Micheal. He catches its forearm in a strong grip.

“You can lie to me. You can laugh at my misery. But when the time comes that I need you and you do not answer I will Know.” His voice has a rumble behind it.

Each word is backed up by a sound resembling a coming storm. He is sure that even without the Eye watching over from the sky he could make Micheal See every painful death it has inflicted. 

“Of course. What do you take me for?” It smiles. 

Jon **knows** it isn’t lying. At least at this point. It can always change its mind later.

“Something I have come to know rather well.” He tells it.

He tries to pull his arm back. It lets him until his hand is halfway across the table. It catches it with its own. It makes them hold hands and smiles at Jon’s scowl.

“Do tell? I am very interested in the me you came to know.” It squeezes his hand, this time not hiding its claws.

Jon uses it as an occasion. He turns his hand and shows the scar left by the Micheal from before. Its eyes widen. There are droplets of blood that came from current Micheal, but the scar is old. And it seems to know where it came from.

“Oh, Archivist. You must have so many interesting tales to share.”

“There are a few. We can make another deal. I will share with you my stories if you look over my assistant. Particularly Sasha, the one you were going to contact.”

It throws back its head and cackles.

“I didn’t even know I was going to.” It says when it stops laughing. There seem to be tears in its eyes. “Wonderful. I like your deals, Archivist. Do you have any more to offer?” 

Jon thinks about it. There is something at the back of his mind, another idea that hasn’t taken shape yet.

“No, but once I think of anything more I will share with you.”

It squeezes his hand again, this time making sure to press its fingers against the old scar.

“Isn’t it curious? I almost feel offended by that other Micheal who got to mark you first.”

Jon mules over the right answer. He needs this Micheal on his side. He also wants it there, someone or something that is just the same as it was before. The madness of it kept it grounded.

“I think more curious is the fact that I marked myself with a spiral to get to you.” He finally answers.

Micheal takes its eyes off the scar to catch his gaze. The pensive mood he hasn’t noticed coming over it, suddenly disappearing.

“Yet it is. It does tell something about you, doesn’t it?”

It chuckles at its own words before letting go of Jon. 

“I am sorry to cut our conversation short, Archivist.” It doesn’t sound sorry at all. “You stopped me from doing something rather important and I need to get back to it. Yet I feel like we will see each other shortly.”

It gets up and out of the chair. Its joints give a clicking sound when it raises to its full height. It towers over Jon, before quickly bending to press a simple peck to his forehead. It cackles at his surprised and slightly offended face before moving towards the cafe. Jon hears a door opening and closing, a door he is sure wasn't there before.

He touches his forehead. He wonders how Micheal knew the place that one of his additional eyes appeared back in the world that came before. Or maybe the monster didn’t know and just wanted to mess with him. Jon decides that’s the most possible option. The Spiral knows something is amiss with him, but he hopes that the chaos he will bring to the status quo will sway it towards his side.

* * *

“Jon?” He hears a surprised voice.

He looks up. There, right in front of him stands Sasha with Tim hanging back. Both look surprised to see him. 

He freezes for a second, thinks how he should act. He wants to run to them, to hug both of them to make sure they are real. That they are not a part of another nightmare. He wants to say how sorry he is for getting them killed, for forgetting Sasha. He wants to swear that it won’t ever happen again. That he will do anything he can to make sure they are safe. He wants to tell them everything. He wants to admit to what he has become. 

“Hello, Sasha. Tim.” He nods at them.

He makes sure his sweater covers his now healed wound. The spiral on his forearm pulses with the same heat he feels inside his stomach. Jon picks up his things and shoves them into his bag. His keys are no longer sharp enough to tear the skin, they almost feel empty. Like whatever power inhibited them before has left them to be just a pair of normal keys. 

“Hi, boss. Fancy seeing you here. Never knew you would betray our coffee machine.” Tim chirps in.

He is smiling a little awkwardly at Jon. He looks good, his face tanned and there is a spark in his eyes when he looks at Jon. A spark that will transform into a fire if the Stranger gets to Sasha. 

“Yes, well I had a meeting with a friend planned here. He had to leave shortly after arriving so we didn’t even get to buy some coffee.” Jon explains. “You two want some or should we hurry to the Institute?”

Sasha looks back at Tim and when he only shrugs she sighs. 

“As a deciding party, I will say: let’s get some coffee.”

“Sure.” Tim agrees easily. “But you are going to be the one to explain to Martin why we don’t want any tea.”

“I will definitely be better at it than you.”

“You did almost make him cry.” Jon chimes in.

He doesn’t say how much he missed this. This easy banter, a friendly chatter that maybe didn’t make the work go faster but made everything easier.

“Okay, that was one time and I am allergic to strawberries.”

“Does that include strawberry tea?”

They move toward the door leading to the Caffe. The sign says ‘Open’ so Jon pulls on the door and lets both Sasha and Tim walk in. Tim actually winks at him when he passes by.

“Thanks, boss. Never knew you were such a gentleman.”

“Only for those who deserve.”

Tim chuckles. He looks delighted that Jon is answering his quips instead of shutting him down like usual. Jon wants to keep it like that for as long as he is able. Unless he gets irritated too quickly. 

“What can I do for you?” A young girl asks Sasha. Her name tag says “Lily” and she has a smiley face pin attached right next to it. 

She looks between the three of them, probably expecting a quick answer.

“Black coffee for me.” Jon replies first, sensing indecision in both Sasha and Tim.

Lily charges him and after paying he is left to stand there and hear a very heated debate in Tim’s mind. Sasha orders her own black coffee which leaves only him to choose.

“Okay, so I want that marshmallow latte you got, but can you add an extra espresso inside? And no whipped cream?”

Lily nods along and says “Yes, sir.” with a smile. With that done they all wait for their coffees.

“Okay, say it.” Tim breaks after a minute of tense silence. “I know you want to say it, so say it.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Sasha tries to keep herself from smiling. “We all ordered what we wanted.”

“Some more than others.” Jon adds, voicing a thought he picks from Sasha’s mind.

She doesn’t seem to notice he quoted her or just chucks to a coincidence. Instead, she continues to try to keep herself from laughing.

“I am man enough to buy whatever I want.” Tim tells them, ignoring a slight blush appearing on his cheeks.

Jon wants to tease him some more, to get back for all the pranks he pulled in the Archive. Unfortunately, his coffee arrives and soon enough they are out of the building and walking towards the Institute. 

“So what are we doing today boss? More ruffling through boxes and segregating the files?”

“Actually no. I will need you to record a few statements for me and do some research while I do the most of ruffling through.”

“Recording? You.” Sasha stops herself from reminding him of his own decision.

A decision he probably voiced not too long ago about his duty as the Archivist to record the accounts of supernatural. He doesn’t tell her he could recite all of the statements without ever looking at them again. For him, the Archive feels like a part of him. How did Micheal from before say it? He owns them the same way a hand owns a stomach. And he needs the place to be tidy, to throw away all of the lies that clutter it.

The Archives are his temple and even if they fall he would carry them with him. But as long as they are there they should be worthy of being a temple.  
His prolonged silence makes Tim look at him strangely.

“Boss?”

“Yes, sorry. I decided we need to find some real statements and record those. Others can be filed in another part of the Institute. Or burned. They are nothing but lies told by those who want attention.” In the end, his voice rises to a rather high volume. It is backed by the power humming behind each word.

“Yes, sure.” Tim raises his hands. He looks ready to guard himself with his marshmallow late. “No offense boss, but I thought you thought it was all baloney.” 

“Most of it is. But not all.” Jon tries to be calmer. He doesn’t want to spook them or tell them too much without evidence. “There is truth there and I want to get to it.”

“That sounds like something that drew us all here.” Sasha buts in. 

“And what keeps us here.” Jon finishes. “Sorry, for the outburst. I had a few heated conversations about the Institute recently and I may be on edge when it comes to the reputation of it.”

“Sure, I get it. I can’t exactly say I am working here without getting some weird looks. Even though I would love to gloat at class reunions.”

“To be quite honest I lied a few times just not to get those weird looks.” Sasha admits. “Or to get someone to tell me more about something concerning a case.”

“Yes, even though Jonah Magnus had money he wasn’t anyone important or well remembered.” Jon feels someone’s gaze zeroing on him as he mentions the name. He even knows whose eyes are watching him closely. “I even had the pleasure of explaining that Magnus institute was named after him instead of someone just coming up with the name.”

Tim snores while slurping the rest of his drink. It makes him choke for a second, especially when he starts laughing through his coughing.

“Are you all right?” Sasha asks, not even trying to hide her amusement.

“Yes, yes.” He waves his free hand. “ I just imagined a guy from some well-off family having a bookshelf and saying ‘This house is my institute. And this is my library.’ and he is just pointing at those five books he has. Everyone just goes okay, since he is rich and they start giving him more books as presents so he has a little bigger library.”

“And it goes on until it creates the library we have now?”

“Exactly.”

“I cannot prove it was like that, but I also cannot disprove it.” Jon nods with appreciation.

They reach the Institute while discussing more of Jonah’s ways of acquiring weird books. Jon reminds them of a statement in which Jonah’s friend mentioned that the founder was going around talking about how much he loved the macabre. Tim argues he probably just said that during some late-night dinner, without any context or prompt. Sasha tries to defend Jonah, to talk about his known achievements but doesn’t really put her heart into it, since she is too busy laughing. She looks as delighted as Tim to be able to joke around with their boss.

Jon feels sorry for the version of himself that never paid enough attention to his coworkers.

* * *

They enter the Institute and head down. They walk by other employes until they reach the lowest level where there is only silence to greet them. Not total silence, since there is some shuffling going in the kitchen next to the desks they work at. Just as Tim predicted Martin is busy making tea. He has cups ready for the whole team. He moves around looking for different brands to make sure everyone gets the one they like. This time Jon doesn’t stop himself from coming closer.

He moves by the desks, leaving Tim and Sasha to settle down at their stations. He enters the kitchen and just looks at Martin. He is as broad as always, his arms moving with nervous energy. He is tall, taller than Jon which isn’t really that hard. His curls look more tamed, he has showered before coming to work. His jumper looks soft and comfortable, its dark green playing nicely with Martin's equally green eyes. He moves toward a kettle and only then does he notice Jon lurking next to the entrance.

“Jesus Christ.” He jumps surprised. “I thought… Jon. Hello. Good morning.” 

Jon smiles. He knows that if he could cry that would be the moment his tears would fall. Instead, he smiles even harder.

“Good morning Martin. It is good to see you.”

“It is? Oh, yes. It is good to see you too.” Martin stumbles over his words and blushes.

The redness spreads over his cheeks, his nose and down his throat. 

“I, aaa. I made some tea. Well, not yet. I mean I am making tea. Do you want some?”

“Yes, actually. I would love some. Can you bring it to the Archive? I will be working there today. You, Sasha and Tim will record statements and look into the cases we have already completed.”

“We will record statements? But…”

“You can use my office. It is soundproof and the recorder is already there. You could start after you finish your tea.”

“I will be recording statements.” Martin says it so quietly like he is scared that saying it louder will make Jon take it back. 

“If you want to. I can also ask Sasha or Tim to do it.”

“No, no! I want to. I just. I never thought you would let me.” Martin admits sheepishly.

Jon knows why that is. He remembers the disdain he felt towards Martin. This time he wants to help him believe in himself without throwing him to the Lonely. Instead, he has a different power he thinks could help Martin.

“I know I’ve been treating you harshly for the last few days. No, from the very start. But I do believe you are a good member of the team and that you can see connections that I am not able to. You are good at talking to people and seeing the emotional side of things. That is vital to discovering the truth of things. Someone can think of every possible detail of their lie, but they cannot control their emotions perfectly.”

Martin looks shocked at the praise. He moves from one foot to the other. The kettle whistling saves him from having to answer. 

“I will leave the statement on your desk,” Jon tells him over the sound of boiling water and leaves the kitchen.

He stops by Tim and Sasha to tell them the news. 

“If you could look into the route taken by a ship named Tundra. I want to know when it will be back in London.“ He orders Tim and turns to Sasha. “If you could gather information about the whereabouts of Simon Fairchild. The last location he was seen at or where I can find him now. After you are done you can look into the house on Hill Top Road. I want the history of the house, the story of the land it was built on. Just make sure not to actually go there.”

“Should we finish looking into the cases we started before? Or are those all lies?” Tim gestures towards a stack of papers on his desk.

Jon **knows** those are the true manifestation of the powers. All of them, including the one talking about the death of Carlos Vittery, the one that started everything. He makes sure to take the file from Martin’s desk.

“After you are done feel free to finish them. I have already looked into the flat that Mr. Vittery was living in so you can leave that be.”

“Was it full of spiders?”

“No. There was something else. I would even consider it worse.”

“Worse than a legion of many-limbed, very fast killers?”

“Yes. There were very fast, jumping worms that can bite you and get inside you.”

“No way. Things like that aren’t real.” Tim shakes his head, but he looks almost fascinated by the concept. 

“There are. And I’ve heard the city can get a problem with an infestation. If you see Elias passing by can you tell him we need more fire extinguishers? I will be holed up with all of the boxes the whole day.”

“Sure. Don’t forget to eat and drink. Passing out in your workplace doesn’t look good on your resume.”

Jon raises his eyebrow but doesn’t answer with any more quips. He has a job to do. He gets inside his office to leave his bag and finds one of the statements already chosen for the recording. He makes sure it concerns an old case, one from Jonah Magnus’ times. He leaves it on Martin’s desk and heads further into the Archives. As he mentioned to his assistants there are boxes full of misplaced files, statements torn in two. 

He looks at the mess created by Gertrude and sighs. He knows why she did what she did. In the end, it didn’t help. Now he was going to undo all of her hard work. She probably didn’t expect a monster to take her position. A monster that contained all of the power she tried to stop from coming into the world. But she is dead, the old world is dead and the Jon standing in front of the boxes has decided to use that power to make things right instead of destroying everything.

He feels the Eye read his intent and purr with contentedness. It isn’t his god anymore, or maybe it is less of a god and more of a companion. The power he wields isn’t the same as the one granted by the Ceaseless Watcher, not anymore. But the Watcher **knows** him just like he **knows** it. And both of them recognize each other just like he thinks siblings would after not seeing on another for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today i bring you something longer since i had more time at my hands. hope it's not very bad


	4. chptr 4

Jon stands in the middle of the room with half of a statement in one hand. He has looked for the other part in at least three boxes. It regards a woman called Veronica coming into contact with what she thinks was a UFO but really was just the Vast playing with her. Jon **knows** the first part of the tale without even opening the folder.

_Veronica woke up in the middle of the night outside of her bed. She had never sleepwalked before so she found it odd. Her house had been built between the rolling hills of Scotland. She had neighbors on both sides but the window she found herself looking out of was situated in the back of her house. Normally it let her look at the forest and a garden she had taken care of since she had been a teenager. In the middle of that night, there was no garden sprawling outside, no the whole world outside of her window was swallowed by an enormous black sky. She could have sworn one of the stars blinked when she looked. She felt unusually calm as she opened the window and tried to climb out. The cold didn’t deter her, even though her pajama was too thin even for the slightest breeze. She knew that it wouldn't matter once she was out there. Later she recalled it as a feeling of shock, the numbness making her ignore all of the warning bells._

_Just before she took the first step out of the safety of her own house her husband caught her arm. He looked distressed and sworn that it looked like she was going to jump from a first-floor window into one of the apple trees growing under it. He noticed a strange glow surrendering her which was the first clue for her that it must have been the aliens._

_She tried telling him about the black sky outside but he pulled her inside, gave her a blanket and tea. He tried to talk her into seeing a doctor. Just because someone used a torch to shine some light on their windows didn’t mean that some extraterrestrial came to haunt her. He even called her mother to ask if they had any mental illnesses in family history._

_He wasn't there to stop her a second time. It was the light, even brighter than the sunlight, coming from the moon that convinced her for one hundred percent it must have been the UFO. There were also those foreign sounds that she could hear, probably a signal sent by them. It sounded like a bunch of bees buzzing next to her ear. A dog from a neighboring house must have seen the light since it started barking and woke her up. Its bark was much louder than the buzzing. It broke off the connection she felt with the thing outside._

_She was once again standing in front of the same window. She looked at the sky and wondered why they wanted her. Maybe they had a message to share. She had heard about those caught by the UFO before and knew she would be perfect to pass the message on._

Regrettably, that is where the file ends. Jon keeps looking for another sheet of paper but there is nothing. He feels a pull towards one of the boxes only to find another true statement but not the one he is trying to complete.

He feels frustration building with each partially complete file found and put aside to complete later. It feels like someone has come to his house and moved every furniture by an inch to the left. He keeps on walking into statements that should be already filed, those that shouldn't be there at all, and almost wants to set them on fire.

Lastly, he relents and leaves Ms Vera on the stack of ‘Complete later’ files. He **knows** how her story ends. She will survive the Vast because she would be too eager to get abducted. There is no fun for the powers in taking someone who isn’t scared. She will drive her husband half-mad with her theories though so that may count as the point for the Spiral. 

Jon sits on the floor, next to a half-finished cup of tea. Martin has made it simply perfect and Jon feels sorry for not finishing it back when it was still hot. He’s gotten lost in the files, too hellbent on segregating truth from fiction. His head pounds every time he has to look at the lies for too long. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be a part of him. 

It is the soothing vibrations of the spiral carved into his forearm that keep him grounded. It loves lies and seems to feed on them. He fondly follows its curls over his sweater while looking at the boxes.

He has moved the statements that are fully incorrect, because someone has lied or was just mistaken, to the right part of the room. On the left side, he keeps the sad stack of those that are true and mostly uncompleted. He has to give it to Gertrude, she made it especially hard to sort out those. She must have known the truth because of her connection to the Beholding. Yet her decision to foil Elias’ plans made her use her powers obscure the truth. Jon wonders if it made her as uncomfortable as he feels each time he looks at her work. Or maybe it is the fact he is the Archive instead of the Head Archivist. 

A gentle knock on the door brings him back from his musings.

“Yes?” He calls still sitting on the floor.

The doors are to his right and he knows for sure they are the same door he came from so he isn’t surprised to see only Tim poking his head in.

“Hi, boss. Just wanted to ask if you want something to eat. You’ve been here for a few hours.” He trails off at the end, not sure how to explain that it was Sasha that made him come up here and ask.

It was her and Martin’s worried glances once he came back from recording the statement.

“Are you going to the cafeteria?”

“No, I’m just buying something there and bringing it here. There is nothing else like eating burritos over your desk.” Tim tries to sell his idea with a smile.

“Fine. Buy me something with chicken and I will pay you back later.”

“Sir, yes sir.” And he is out of the door, thinking if it was really a good idea to bring Jon out of his cave.

Jon shakes his head and looks down at his cup. He wants to spend more time with his assistants. He is going to make sure they are better. He keeps repeating it to himself even though he feels guilty over using the knowledge they have never intended to share with him. He doesn't even want to think about how he will go over saying that he knows what has happened to Tim’s brother. He hopes that getting the Stranger as the sacrifice will make it easier to swallow for Tim. Jon drinks the leftover tea and stands up. He wants to check up on the others before they get to eat.

* * *

He walks through the Institute and feels more at home than in his own flat. He knows these corridors even better than he **knows** them. He has walked them so many times, even times that do not exist anymore.

He remembers them from after Prentiss’s attack, he remembers them from planning to stop the Unknowing, and from the mist that swallowed them when the Lonely took over. He knows that if it came to it he would have as much of a right to those walls as Jonah Magnus. He could even fight him over it. 

Jon walks into the bigger hall where his assistants talk from their desks. Sasha has turned her chair backward so she can freely look at Martin. She is in the middle of explaining one of her theories concerning the inner doings of the Institute. 

She knew Gertrude and feels it is impossible that she would leave the Archives in such a state. That doesn’t sit well with the image of a strong and hardworking woman she got to know. Martin nods along, half-listening half looking at the corridor that Jon emerges from.

“Jon!” He nearly jumps in his seat. “You’ve really… You decided to take a break.”

Sasha turns to look at him.

“Good to see Tim wasn’t just telling us what we wanted to hear.”

“It seems like I have to thank you for making him come.”

“I wouldn't say make. We only stared at him until he submitted.”

“We didn’t stare!” Martin flatters when Jon focuses his gaze on him. “We only mentioned it would do him some good to take a detour to the archive to check if you wanted something. Walking is important when you work in an office.”

“Yes, of course. We did it for Tim.” Sasha nods even though her grin betrays her mirth.

“Then I hope he will thank you for your generous care.”

“I think he really should.”

Not being able to hold it back any longer Sasha giggles and even Martin overcomes his embarrassment at being so close to Jon and chuckles. 

“So how was it? How much did you manage to salvage?” Sasha's tone turns serious.

She seems to have noticed how much the mess started to bother Jon. Even before he didn’t like it but now it was almost overbearing. She has wondered about asking to help but after his outburst thought better of it. Jon feels a little guilty about it.

She deserves first sit in everything that's happening. Normally she would be way more qualified for the job than he is. But the Beholding doesn't care for your CV but for the amount of suicidal tendentious you have when it comes to founding out the truth. Jon wonders if Sasha's caution was what stopped Elias from choosing her as the Head Archivist. She would have been way smarter than Jon when it came to chasing answers. Maybe she would have been able to stop the Watcher's Crown.

“Our job will be easier once I’m done. Only a small percentage is worth our time.”

“What about other statements?” Martin asked unsurely. “What will we do with them?”

“I will talk to Elias about them. Has he been here?”

“Yes, he was. Didn’t he talk to you? He went into the archive around noon and left soon after.”

“No. I haven’t seen him.” Jon shook his head. 

“Weird. He looked so expressed I could have sworn he talked to you.”

“Sasha!” Martin looks frustrated by her comment.

She smiles apologetically. 

“I’m sorry. But you can’t tell me you don’t remember how he looked during Jon’s first few days down here. I don’t even know what he was doing here.”

“I may have… I may have dragged him here.” Jon doesn't have to feign embarrassment.

“You did what?” Martin stares at him.

“This is his institute. And he let the archives come into this state of disrepair. He should see how bad they have gotten.”

Jon has to give it to Martin. He acted weirdly even before becoming an Avatar. Maybe the Beholding had its hooks in him even earlier. Or maybe he has always been destined to become what he is.

“That explains why he always looks so exhausted when talking to us. He probably took that to heart too much.” Tim butts in. 

He is carrying four burritos packed into a plastic bag. 

“As your boss, I must ask you to move to the kitchen. We won’t be eating here.” Jon decides and moves first to set an example.

They follow him, but now without Tim complaining about ungrateful employers. They fit inside the small room but Martin keeps on brushing his shoulders with Jon because of the close fit. His face gets as red as his curls which makes Tim grin so hard his cheeks hurt. Jon is sure there will be a lot of teasing once he gets back to sorting through statements.

“I have to ask you, boss. How the hell do you know which one of those statements is true?” Tim asks between bites.

He is leaning against the refrigerator and looking at Jon curiously. This question has been sitting on top of their minds since morning. There are a few theories.

Sasha thinks he has found some of Gertrude’s notes or maybe a key to the sorting system. Martin reasons that he has done a lot of research back at home. And Tim is between some secret conspiracy between Jon and Elias or that Jon has just gone crazy and decides on random. Jon doesn’t want to lie to them. He is planning on telling the truth about the Powers at some point, but their dangly kitchen doesn’t look like a good place. 

“I cannot say yet, since I haven’t approved it with Elias yet.”

“Huh? You are throwing some files out behind his back?”

“Nothing like that. We have come across some knowledge not yet released to the public. I won’t share because of legal reasons. Once I get clearance I will be able to talk about it.”

They all think the same thing: Gertrude Robinson. Jon has probably found something of hers, a notebook or a journal. Things like that should go to the police first. So maybe he looked through it even though he wasn’t supposed to. And now he knows more about the files even though he isn’t supposed to.

It is mesmerizing to see them reach the same conclusion at the same time.

“Sure, sure. Nothing illegal I hope. I wouldn't want my desk job to be taken because it turns out you run a cartel.”

“No, everything is perfectly legal. You just have to wait.”

“Leave it, Tim.” Sasha buts in. 

“Yeah, sure.” Tim takes another bite. He hasn’t finished chewing before he starts talking again. “I’ve looked into the ship you wanted me to. Apparently, it won’t be back in the UK for another 4 months.”

That puts a stop on his plans concerning Peter Lukas. He will need this man, but maybe this plan can be put on hold. After all the Extinction didn’t come into play for much longer. 

“And Simon?”

“Almost completely elusive. I’ve found some mentions of his name in the statements we are supposed to look into, but the company owned by a woman sharing his last name doesn't exist. I will keep looking.” Sasha has more dignity and doesn’t talk with her mouth full. 

“You can always catch him during the company parties,” Martin says with a shrug.

All three sets of eyes turn to him.

“What?” He moves uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

“You go to these?”

“He comes to the Institute’s company parties?”

Martin looks between Jon and Tim. He finally decides who to answer first. 

“He is one of the Institute’s financial backers. And I do go, it is fun to meet people working at different parts of the Institute.” He defends himself.

“If you say so.”

“Are the members of the Lukas family also present at those?”

“Sometimes. Usually, it’s one or two members of the family.”

“And Peter Lukas?”

“I don’t think so, no. Well, it’s not like they introduce themselves to me.”

“Interesting.”

“What? Are you going to make us go to a party, boss?” Tim raises one of his eyebrows. “Maybe dance a little.”

“I hope not. Your dance is a disaster.” Sasha elbows him. “If you want to get hold of the Lucas’s you can always visit their manor, Jon.”

“I know, I know. It is just…” safer. Even if Elias isn’t fully on his side the company parties usually take place within the Institute’s halls. No one would hurt him under the watchful Eye.

“I need to think about it. I need to talk to Peter Lukas about a few things.”

“Alright? I am not judging.” Tim tries to make the atmosphere lighter.

Jon knows his co-workes have noticed something is off with him. But now he doesn’t have time to explain so instead he finishes his meal.

“Once you are done with the research you can leave early.” He tells them. He leaves them in the kitchen and heads back to the archive. Just before he disappears in the corridor he hears Martin calling his name.

“Yes?”

“Would you want some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

* * *

Jon waits until he is sure his assistants have gone home. He has been sitting inside the archive for another three hours and even the Spiral cannot keep his head from punding. It is filled by line after line of lies. He wishes to go home.

He has wanted to get to the Web Table today, but with the headache, he feels like that would do more damage. He wants it gone, he wants the abomination inside to feel pain and sorrow it would never bring to him in this world. But for now, he has to lie down, and being vulnerable inside the Institutes has to wait until he is done with all of the nitpicks.

He considers calling for Micheal, to test if the creature will answer. 

As he goes to his office he finds it already occupied. Inside, in his pristine suit, Elias sits in his chair waiting. He looks just like he used to back in the day. His hair is combed back, perfectly trimmed. His steely eyes observe everything. He looks like a perfect accountant if not for a small smile that appears on his lips whenever he is sure no one is watching. A man sure he knows more than anyone. When Jon enters he looks up. His smile freezes before turning to a frown.

“Hello, Jon.”

“Elias.” Jon cannot help but touch his temple. He doesn’t feel like facing his employer while in pain but the choice has been taken out of his hands. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I did try to talk to you earlier. But it seemed like you were occupied.”

Jon snorts. “That’s one way of saying it.”

He notices that Elias isn’t looking him in the eye. No, he isn’t even looking directly at Jon. His eyes keep skimming over his sides and it looks like it’s not Elias design. If Jon didn’t know him so well he wouldn’t have noticed the frustration in his face when once again their eyes don’t meet. Jon looks down at himself surprised. He isn’t doing anything on purpose. He is just standing there, more or less ready to confront Elias. 

Then it comes to him. The steady pulse of the spiral that has comforted him throughout the day. He hasn’t been doing anything on purpose and yet no one asked about his changed appearance. Even he has forgotten about them. His thoughts didn’t go there throughout the day even once. It was another maze that has shielded him but also distorted his own thinking. It is dangerous to rely on such a fickle power. Yet he feels strangely comforted by it.

He focuses on that pulse, on that warmth that has kept him grounded. He softly calms it down to a steady stream of warmth instead of a pulse. The power inside him reacts the same way it does whenever he uses compulsion. A static noise that has been surrendering him from the moment Micheal left quiets down. 

He looks up, back at Elias. The surprise he sees in those eyes, in the eyes belonging to a dead man, makes him smile.

“Sorry about that. I seem to have attracted more affection than I thought I would.”

“Affection? You have been marked by it.” Elias gets up and goes around the desk. Jon takes a few steps closer to see what the man will do.

“The Powers mark their prey. I have bound the Power to me. There is a difference, and you should know it, Jonah.” Jon feels it when Elias tries to look at his thoughts. It is an attempt of someone not expecting resistance. Or maybe not used to it.

“Who are you?”

Hearing his name makes Elias take a step back. He quickly regains control over himself and takes two steps closer. He is taller than Jon and tries to use it to his advantage. He looks over the Archivist’s face, noticing the scars.

It is Jon letting go of any attempt to suppress his power that makes him stumble. Elias is pulled forward by the power emitting from the being in front of him. It feels as inevitable as gravity. He raises his hands and takes Jon’s face between them. He keeps his touch soft, delicate as if Jon would shatter if touched.

“I am the Archive,” Jon answers simply. There is thunder behind his words. “I am what you wanted to create but also so much more.”

Elias lets his thumbs brush the skin under the green eyes watching his every move. The glow of them could make even the darkest room light. 

“How?”

“Now, that isn’t for you to know. Not now at least.” Jon lets himself muzzle into one of the palms. 

If feels like ages since the last time he has been touched. Micheal comes to his mind first and Martin from the old world. His skin feels hungry like he could soak up all of the affection bestowed upon him.

“And what do you want?”

This causes Jon to catch one of Elias’s wrists into his own hand. He pushes steadily at his puls point.

“You aren’t truly devoted to the Beholding. You used to, yes. But know what you are afraid of is death, not being known. And that makes you no better than any other poor souls whose statements are a part of me.” 

Elias blinks at the accusation. Jon blinks back, his eyelids moving slowly. He can feel the tell-tale feeling on his forehead and on different parts of his skin. The itch he knew from just before his other eyes opened. But they aren't here yet. “If you truly want to achieve what you want you to have to believe.”

“And what am I supposed to believe now? The End?”

“It doesn't need believers. It always is. No, believe in me. Believe that I Know you and that I know what you are. You are a monster but not the right kind. Doing monstrous things has made you only a monster in the human sense. One that doesn’t give you immortality but only makes me more eager to make sure you never achieve it.”

Elias hums. He looks calm even though Jon can feel something akin to panic simmering under his skin. He doesn’ know what is standing in front of him in the place of Jonathan Simms, the man he was planning on sacrificing for his own goal. He only knows that this being is powerful and not that happy with him.

“I cannot wait to see what you have to offer.” He decides on a non-answer. 

Jon smiles. This is Elias trying to regain control. If not for the pounding in his head he would have let it carry on. 

“Think about your options. And if by any chance Peter Lukas decides to visit, do send him my way. Even if you will be having a conjugal visit I really need to talk to him.” With that he lets Elias go.

There is hesitation in Elias. He wants to stay, to ask more questions but there is also his self-preservation. He **knows** that Jon isn’t in the best shape, that power of his is brewing under the skin and he may end up overspilling. 

“Is it the archives?” He asks instead of leaving. A brave decision made by a man not known for his bravery. “You have been there all day.”

“The state they are in… You should have fired Gertrude for that only.’

“She had her uses.” As gently as before Elias moves his hand up to massage on Jon’s temple. The other hand goes to cradle his head. A soft touch to his shorter hair makes him stumble forward. 

For a second he feels like crumbling completely. He feels like spilling everything he has bottled inside since the moment he left the world that wouldn’t happen. He knows Elias would believe him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that his plan did come to fruition. Or maybe it is mercy not to tell him it fails. Jon lets his head fall to Elias’ shoulder. He can feel another plan forming, probably something along the lines of ‘how to manipulate with affection’.

“You are hopeless.” He tells the other man. “Just trust me this once.”

Elias hums and untangles the ribbon holding Jon’s hair in place. They fall down which lets him card his fingers through them. 

“I can only say I will try, Jon.”

“Hmm. Good enough I guess.” Jon stays like this for a few minutes before moving back with a sigh. “Before you go back to your house to think of another five plans I need you to know one thing.”

“Yes?”

“If anything happens to any of my assistants I will personally make sure you die.”

The static gets so loud Jon would worry if Elias heard him if not for the Knowledge he certainly did.

“The sentiment may be the thing that gets you.” His boss says with an uneasy smile.

“It is the thing that is keeping you still alive so you may be right.”

Elias blinks surprised once again. Jon knows that his Elias did grow to have some affection for him with time. Of course, the want to live forever, and the plans set years before turned out to be more important but he cannot say there has been no affection between them. He wonders if this Elias is going to grow to care for him stronger. 

“Then I hope it will last.” Elias lets go of him.

He looks unsure for a moment, a thing that Jon treasures greatly. Finally, he just moves quickly forward and kisses the corner of Jon’s lips and leaves. He does notice how red Jon’s cheeks get if his smirk is anything to go by.

“You are really easy to rille up for a god.” A screeching voice tells him once the doors close. 

He doesn’t have to turn to know there are other doors right next to them, a yellow pair that hasn’t been there before.

“It’s not my fault you all like to spur things like this at me.”

Micheal laughs from where it is standing at the opening to its corridors. Its long coat is moved by the breeze coming from the darkness.

“How could we not when you color so nicely.”

Jon turns to it. He checks if he has called out to it by accident when he saw Elias. He is almost sure he hasn’t tried to get the creature to help him.

“It’s not only you who can call me now. I also know when you need me.” Micheal answers smiling with its too many teeth. “I know when you think about calling me. It is a two-way street.”

“And you came because I wanted you to come?”

“Hmm. You can say that. I also wanted to see how you will act around the one who wants to throw you to the wolves.”

“You were the one that’s kept him from me earlier. Why now?”

“Kept him? Oh, no, no. That was all you.”

“I…” Jon thinks about it for a second. The pulsing has helped him with fooling people about his looks. It may have saved him from Elias when he really didn’t want to see the man. He bites into his lip deep in thought. He hasn’t been marked by the Spiral. Instead, he may have bound it to himself. The consequences of this aren’t something he **knows**. He tries to but they seem to be connected to the future. He cannot look that far.

Instead, he looks up at Micheal. The being is still smiling but it looks at him softly.

“Only now, you are releasing it aren’t you? Oh, Archivist. Do you always run blindly into the danger?

Jon splutters. “I will have you know I know what I am doing.”

“You do?”

Jon sighs and looks at the door behind which Elias has disappeared. He is still stumbling around even though he knows what was supposed to happen. And he keeps running into other monsters who up until this point fortunately haven’t wanted to harm him. He knows he is running out of those.

“So maybe I don’t know the details. I will get there.”

Jon turns to his desk and picks up his things. He ignores the laughter accompanying him.

“You do have a wonderful sense of humor.” Micheal comments.

Jon steadily ignores him, turns, and gets towards the door. He pauses right in front of the other monster.

“Haven’t heard that one before. Come on, I want to get home and get rid of this headache.”

Micheal takes a step to the side and lets Jon enter its corridors. The surprised smile on its face is a treat of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As long as I'm writing I don't have to face my fear of the Magnus Archive ending so I think I will be writing this for a long time. Wish me luck


	5. chptr 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self-harm for higher powers

Jon has lost the ability to sleep back in the apocalypse. He tries not to dwell on that time, like an addict blocking memories of the high. Instead, he starts tidying up his flat. Micheal stands in the corner for a moment, just staring and taking note of Jon’s every move. The Archivist folds blankets left on the couch, puts pillows in the right places before turning to the monster.

“Sit here. Try not to tear my furniture.” Next, he is moving to stacks of false statements laying on his coffee table.

He used to record those on his laptop but now he feels disgusted when he picks them up. Soon they land in the bin. 

“I would never do anything like that to your furniture.” Micheal informs him but a giggle at the end betrays it may be lying.

With a few steps, it deposits itself on the couch. Too long limbs take too much space between its seat and the coffee table so it folds them underneath itself. Its hands fall to its lap. 

Micheal continues to observe Jon but now looks more like a pet perched on its stand instead of a looming monster. 

Jon moves to the bookshelves. He **knows** the books he has left to read during his sparse free time. He could still try to find some pleasure in reading them anyway, but he leaves them for that nebulous time of “everything is fine”. He focuses on putting them in alphabetic order. He stops when the spiral on his arm gives a slight tug. He looks down at it with wonder. Too much order isn’t good for it. He forsakes his plan and puts the books back at random. 

“You learn fast, Archivist.” Micheal croons from its seat.

Jon huffs but smiles a little at it.

“It is easy to learn with a warning sign embedded in your skin.”

“Maybe. But there have been many before you who didn’t.”

“You mean other Avatars of The Spiral?”

“Do I?”

Jon looks at it and tries to Know. Once again there is an avalanche of thoughts appearing in an order that makes no sense. He turns to its feeling only to find amusement. 

“I’m too tired for this.” He concedes.

“You did have a long day.”

Jon leaves the last book on his table and moves to sit on the couch. There is nothing special about that one book. Yet once he decided to rely on the Spiral he wanted to make most of it. There needs to be a little bit of chaos in his flat. 

The couch is soft and cozy, just like he remembers. Micheal observes him with curiosity. 

“What?”

“Does there have to be something?”

Jon lets out a breath with a quiet “Impossible”. Micheal laughs with its many voices and turns sideways on the couch. 

It looks like a clear invitation to cuddling and Jon knows without even trying to Know that if he asked Micheal would turn it into him seeing too much. Just to mess with him. Instead, he grabs one of the blankets, leans against the tall monster, and put the blanket around them. An arm with one too many joint circles him and just like that they are cuddling. 

“I hope not all of the Avatars are going to want to cuddle once I’m done with their powers.”

Micheal hums which makes its chest vibrate with four different sounds. The spiral on Jon’s arm answers with a gentle vibration.

“Maybe it will be different since I’m not exactly planning to set myself on fire or infest myself.”

The arm pushes him further into the embrace.

“Good. It is already too crowded with your little assistant and the watcher.” Micheal sighs pleasantly.

“This is… the first time I’ve heard anyone calling Martin little. He is bigger than me.”

“Hmm, that is simply not true. You fill everything.”

Jon could try to act like he doesn’t know what it is talking about. Like he also doesn't feel it. Like he isn’t keeping himself from spilling all of the power under his skin and pulling all the Powers back to the world. 

After tying the Spiral to him he almost feels grounded in its pulse of madness and how it is a part of the new world. He can feel Micheal even when it's hidden in its corridors or hunting some poor, unfortunate soul. 

“I need to make sure the Eye is on my side.” He tells Micheal while moving a little to find a better position. Its bones do not follow human anatomy so he feels like something hard is poking his arm just around where its chest is supposed to be. “The Web should also come in handy.”

“The Spider won’t be too happy to let you control it. But it will be lovely to see you try.”

“Maybe so. What I need more is its cooperation.”

Jon lets his head fall against Micheal’s shoulder. He is trying to formulate a plan but there are almost too many variables. He really should try to talk Elias into actually helping him. 

For a minute he lets himself look at the man. He is sitting in an expensive-looking flat with a book and a glass of scotch. Just when Jon sees him fully, in his shirt instead of a full suit, a pair of steely eyes catch his. Elias looks right back at him. There is a flash of an uncomfortable feeling when the Watcher feels watched. It is quickly hidden behind a polite smile. 

“I didn’t expect any guests.” Elias tells the not so empty room.

Jon moves and feels Micheal’s arm around him but also a smell of wood and musk. 

“I needed to make sure you aren’t trying to find new Archivist and crown them in one night.” Jon answers trying to sound light like he hasn’t been really worrying.

“That wouldn't have worked I think. You have already been crowned.” Elias lets the book fall on the table in front of him. “You have left me with quite a conundrum, my dear.”

“There are some things that need time.”

A pulse runs through the scar on Jon’s arm, a feeling he knows is connected to the Spiral laughing behind him.

“Is your curiosity about my whereabouts satiated?”

Jon nods. Then just before he leaves, he hesitates.

“Tomorrow I am going to need your assistance.”

“Should I leave my whole day open for you or?”

“No, no. An hour should do just fine.” With that Jon leaves and comes back to his own couch and a laugh still ringing in his ears.

“You love to play with fire, don’t you Archivist.”

Jon hums. It seems like his position with Elias is still shaky. He could feel the gears in the man’s head turning even before he noticed Jon. He must be thinking of something. Jon could just look inside his head, but he doesn’t want to use that yet. He leaves it as a last resort, this invasion of privacy.

“I just need to give him what he wants in a way that doesn’t end the world.” He simply says. “And I have a hunch there is an easy way for that.”

“I can’t wait to see it. A way that hasn’t crossed the Watcher’s mind in over a hundred years. An easy way at that.” Micheal laughs but this time it hides its face in Jon’s hair.

That makes Jon notice that his hair is down. He hasn’t noticed it falling from the band tying it. He thinks back to the Institute, to Elias taking it off. He never gave it back. It probably was the same band that was lying on the table in front of him. Jon decided to at least hope that the other man has some affection for him.

“What now Archivist?”

Jon thinks about Martin and finds him inside his own flat watching something on the TV. He doesn’t notice Jon’s eyes which shouldn't be surprising. Martin, even though he is bound to the Archive, is still human. Jon leaves him be, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. A quick check on Tim and Sasha gives him the same results. Everyone is enjoying their evening, no one is getting attacked by a living hive. Jon lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Now, I would just like to rest.”

“Then close your eyes. I can’t promise you pleasant dreams but you won’t be alone.”

“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”

“Oh, you have never heard of pretending, have you?” A chuckle he knows is coming vibrates in the chest under him.

“Pretending. Yes, we could try that.” He lets his eyes fall shut. 

A part of him that’s been monitoring everything going on, the changes he has made to the world also shuts. He feels like it is no longer putting Knowledge inside his head like he has closed the door at least for a second. 

It is easier here, in the world that has sun above. He feels lulled into a meditative state by the scar on his forearm and the humming under him. He knows he could open his eyes at any time but instead, he just exists. It feels peaceful. 

He almost doesn’t want to go back yet when the sun comes back up like clockwork his eyes open. Micheal is still beside him, still humming. 

“That was… welcome.” Jon tells it.

He turns so he is face to face with the monster. Its blond hair falls in waves creating a crown of light around its head. Micheal looks at Jon with a smile that reaches its strange eyes. They have no definite color, instead they change from green to blue to brown each time he tries to label them. 

“Thank you.” Jon adds. 

This time it is him that leans in and kisses its brow. 

Within seconds he is out of its grasps and getting ready for the day. Micheal looks actually surprised before it giggles and continues to observe the Archivist going about his day.

* * *

Back at the Institute its Tim’s turn to record a statement. Jon stands still and wonders which one to choose. He doesn’t want to put his assistant at risk, but he also feels like he should start getting him to seeing that there is something bigger at play than just the Stranger. He finally decides on one concerning the Desolation. The fire that burns may be a good pick for the assistant that decides to throw away everything just to see the ones that wronged him burn.

It is an old statement, so Jon doesn’t have to worry about sending Tim to any danger yet. Jude Perry has already marked him, there is no need to give her more. He thinks back to Agnes, to her suicide. A spark that has gone out just so they could try again. He wonders about using it. Another thought for later.

“You sure, boss? Not that I am not hyped for sitting in your chair and talking out loud to myself and a recorder, of course.” Tim leans against Jon’s desk with his arms crossed.

He looks intrigued even though his voice tries to stay as flat as possible. Even though he tried to push Sasha as the more deserving of the honor of recording he has wanted to try it. And Jon still hasn’t decided what to do with her. 

“Yes Tim, for the hundredth time I’m sure.” Jon rolls his eyes.

He gets out of his seat, living everything ready for Tim to take his place. 

“If you say so. Where should I put it once I’m done?”

“Just leave it here. I will put it with other true statements later.”

“So this one is true? Sweet.” Tim cannot hide his excitement this time.

Jon doesn’t have to look into his mind to know he is thinking about his brother.

“Yes, I think so. You can take a longer break after you are done. They do tend to hit stronger.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks for the heads up.”

Tim keeps looking at the statement with hunger. Jon knows fully well why the Eye led Elias to choose him as an assistant. The man wants to know and nothing will stop him. Jon closes the door behind himself when he leaves.

Martin and Sasha look up from their desks when he passes them. Both are working hard on researching the information for more modern statements. He has told them he would need their help later with moving all of the boxes to their correct places. Tim proposed a garbage bin for the false statements, but Jon just told them he would talk to Elias about the right way of action.

Jon nods at them before going to an elevator. He rides up and follows the right path to Elias’ office. Rosie greets him with a smile and a quiet murmur that their boss is waiting for him. Jon gets inside after knocking. He knows Elias has been observing his every move since he came to the Archive this morning.

“Good to see you, Jon.” The man greats him from behind his desk. The large portrait of Jonah Magnus looms behind his back.

Both pair of steely eyes observe Jon.

“Good morning.” Jon tries to keep at least a facade of normalcy. 

He moves closer to stand in the middle of the room. He looks for the right place to do what he has planned. He chooses the couch pushed against the left wall. 

“I hope you have something sharp here.” Then without any further preamble, he starts to open his trousers.

Elias freezes. His polite smile disappears when he tries not to show any surprise. 

“A towel would also be a good idea.” Jon adds. 

He pulls his old jeans down and steps out of them. Elias overcomes his shock and pulls out one of the drawers in his desk. He gets out a letter opener. An old one, made out of steel back in the XVIII century. Jon **knows** it is one of the few things that he has kept even when he changed bodies. 

Jon sits down on the couch and waits. He feels strangely calm, just like he did before. The Eye knows his plan and it is curious. It has never been bound to anything. If the Spiral let him do it because of the chaos he was going to cause, the Eye cared more for the experience of belonging. 

Elias gets up and goes to a bathroom adjacent to his office. He brings out a towel, plush and expensive looking. He stalks closer to Jon, only stopping to close his office door with a key. Soon he looks down at his Archivist. His face is still pensive like he doesn’t know what emotion he should show.

“Thank you.” Jon takes the towel and puts it underneath his left leg. 

Next, he takes the knife. This seems to pull Elias out of his strange trans. He moves to sit beside Jon. He follows the path of the blade as it lands on Jon’s tight and bites into the skin. Jon lets out a breath.

Elias takes a moment to look at the Archivist’s face. He finds there undivided focus and a blush rising on his cheeks. Jon doesn’t blink, just looks at his own creation appearing on his skin. 

Elias looks back down, staring at an eye being drawn with his own blade. The lower eyelid is already there, blood pouring from the wound and gathering on the towel. Soon the upper eyelid and the pupil also follow suit. Once Jon is done with them he passes the blade to Elias without giving him a word of instruction. Yet the man knows what he is supposed to do. He presses the blade into Jon’s skin over the eye, pulls it back, and does the same another two times. There, staring at him is the symbol of his god being tied to a creature sitting in front of him. With a trembling hand, Elias presses his fingers into the wounds. Jon makes an unhappy sound which causes Elias to quickly let go. 

Just like that, the moment is over. Whatever spell that kept them quiet and moving through the motions disappears into the stale air of an office. 

“I believe I have never heard of this ritual.” Elias moves back, to better look at Jon.

He wiped the blade into a tissue he produces from his pants’ pocket. 

“Yes, that is probable. I did come up with it once I got here.”

“Interesting.” Elias looks down at the blade still clutched in his hand. “And that’s how you bound the Spiral.”

Jon leans back against and observes. 

“I didn’t ask you to help me only because I needed you to witness the eye.”

Elias looks back up. His gaze feels almost like a caress, doubled by the sting he still feels in his leg.

“I know you are quite good at setting people up for meetings with the Powers where they have a big chance of survival.”

“I take it is firsthand knowledge.” Elias looks at the scars across Jon’s cheek and his burned hand.

“Yes. And I need your expertise.”

Elias looks delighted. He sits back, happy to be in the position of power once again.

“Oh, Jon. I will be happy to oblige.” 

Jon heals up quickly. The scar looks bright red even after he washes away the blood. Elias keeps on touching it whenever he can while cleaning it. He gently probes it with his fingers, even uses his nails to scratch it which makes Jon move back. The feeling feels like lightning traveling up his leg. 

Elias doesn’t try it again, but the smug smile on his lips tells Jon it won’t be the last time he tries.

“I need your authorization to put away all of the useless files in the Archive.” He mentions after putting his trousers back on. 

Elias smiles indulgently. 

“Of course. You can mark the boxes containing those files and I will have someone pick them up and throw them away.”

“No. I don’t need them thrown away. I want to keep them, just away from the truth.”

Elias tilts his head.

“Ah, the Spiral.” He concludes. “In that case, you can use one of the storage rooms in the Archives. I will make sure they are cleared today. There will be shelves put in.”

Jon nods. He needs to get up and finish dividing the truth from the fiction but he doesn’t want to leave yet. The power is thrumming each time Elias gets a little closer to him. It answers to his gaze, eager to pull him in and show him everything. Jon wonders if that could kill the other man.

“Jon, I have a question of a more personal matter.” 

“More personal than filing cabinets?”

“Yes, you could say so. Would you accompany me to supper tonight?”

Jon blinks.

“I... Yes. I think I would like to.”

“Great. You can find me here once you are finished up with your day.”

Jon takes it as a clear sign he should leave. He bids his goodbye and tries to ignore how smug Elias looks. All the prior unsureness seems gone. The prize for asking the man to help. Jon nods at Rosie who smiles at him, unaware of everything that has taken place behind the closed door.

* * *

Jon takes a moment to talk to Sasha and Martin when he gets back down to the Archives. 

“Is Tim still recording?” He asks.

His thigh sends a signal along his nerves he interprets as a yes. 

“I think so. He hasn’t been out since you left.” Sasha tells him with a huff. She has taken it upon herself to finish everything before they have to move the files. 

It took her shorter than she expected so out of boredom she has started to go through files left at Tim’s desk. 

“Alright. Elias promised to send some people to change one of the storage rooms into a place where we can keep the false files.”

His assistant nod. Martin furrows his brow.

“I still don’t get why everyone keeps their things here. We aren’t just storage for office supplies.”

“They don’t expect us to have anything worthwhile so they just put things here.”

“Yes, but why did Elias agree to this. This is unfair.”

Jon nods along with their conversation. He cannot help but smile at the real affront in Martin’s voice. 

“It was Gertrude who agreed to this.” He chimes in. “She has been responsible for everything here. Elias tends to leave things concerning the Archives in the Archivist’s hands.”

Sasha is the one to look uncomfortable this time. Jon feels tempted to tell her she is right in her assessment of Gertrude. That the late Archivist did everything in her power to make the world a better place. Or to just keep it from ending. 

He still remembers the tale of Micheal and many others suffering for the greater good under Gertrude’s orders.

“Once they clean things up we can start to make this place a real testament to knowledge.” He says instead. 

He knows he sounds pretentious, but the eye on his leg answers favorably. 

“Alright. I need to check some things out in the main library. It won’t take too much time.” Sasha gathers a couple of notes and puts them in her bag. 

She feels a little strange around this new Jon. Even though he looks the same, he stares at everything instead of simply watching. He seems to never blink. And suddenly he looks like he has forsaken his professional looks for old, big sweaters and jeans. She wants to ask if everything is ok, but she doesn’t feel like it’s her place. She hurries to an elevator leaving Jon and Martin alone.

“I hope we can make this place better,” Martin confesses in a quiet voice like he is waiting for a rebuke.

“I think we will.” Jon crosses his arms. He wants to get closer but doesn’t want to crowd Martin.

Even though he is smaller than the redhead he feels just like Micheal said. Too big for his skin, taking more space than he ever thought he could. 

“Really?” Martin looks up at his surprised by a gentle answer. “That’s. This is good. I..” Martin looks around searching for anything to say. “I wanted to thank you for the other day. The thing you said was very sweet.”

“I haven’t said enough. I owe you an apology for treating you badly before. I have been too harsh.”

“No, no you weren’t. I mean I am a mess. I sometimes need someone to remind me there is work to do.” Martin laughs, trying to take the blame off Jon.

The Archivist doesn’t relent.

“No, Martin. Even though you can be a mess” Jon gentles the words with a smile. “You never deserved the amount of scorn I’ve given you. To be quite honest I took out upon you my annoyance even though I should have been dealing with it like an adult. So I am sorry.”

Martin doesn’t know what to say. His eyes are glassy, their green color looking lighter because of the unshed tears. 

“I won’t..” He stops to take a shaky breath.”I won’t argue with you. But I know you have been tired and stressed out. I understand Jon, really.”

Jon wants to make another argument. He wants to shake Martin, to make him see that he shouldn’t let other people treat him like this. He knows that shouting won’t make his point get across, but even before he can think of any other thing to do their conversation gets cut short.

“That was something,” Tim exclaims when he enters the hall. 

He isn’t too caught up in his experience not to notice Martin’s blush. It starts at his cheeks but quickly covers his whole face

“Am I interrupting something?” 

“Yes.” Jon answers and turns to him. “But we will get back to it later.” Once he doesn’t want to shake some sense into Martin.

“If you say so, boss.”

“I will make some tea!” Without stopping to ask if anyone even wants some Martin is off.

“I really hope those were happy tears.” Tim gets closer to Jon. 

They both look after Martin, but the slightly defensive tone is pointed towards Jon.

“I think they were.”

“Think? You really are hopeless.” Tim sighs. “Just try not to make everything worse.”

“I didn’t know I asked for relationship advice from you.”

“You didn’t have to. You look like you clearly needed one.”

Jon doesn’ try to argue. The care emanating from Tim towards Martin is welcome. They need to stick together if they want to survive. 

“Well, then thank you for noticing.”

“You are welcome!’ Even though Tim notices the dry tone he answers as cheerfully as possible.

“How was the statement?” Jon tries to subtly change the subject.

“Weird. I know this will sound weird. And that you only want ‘scientific facts, no bullshit’, even though you are the one that spooks the easiest.” At Jon’s glare, Tim goes back to the main topic. “So I could feel it. The fire. The one giving the statement, they were a victim of some abusive asshole and they set him on fire. But like went fully Carrie on him. Apparently, the kept him alive long enough that he could feel his own fat sizzle. I kind of believe them.”

Jon nods.

“ _What could you feel_?” He feels the jolt coming from his thigh. The Eye wants to know.

“You believe me? Of course, you do. Worse than Martin I swear. Well, I could feel the heat at the top of my fingers. I could smell the fire. I think. I hope nothing has started burning here. And the feeling… the feeling of power and satisfaction. I could almost choke on it.” Tim steps from one foot to the other. “If this was a true statement than I hope not to run into the person who has given it.”

“Interesting. _Was there nothing that you found alluring_?”

“What? No! I mean I kind of rooted for the abuse victim and a good revenge tale is also welcome. And okay, I may have felt some kinship with their want for revenge.”

“Good.” 

A clatter coming from the kitchen stops their conversation. Jon leaves Tim behind. He wonders if his assistant will ever realize how much he shared because he has been compelled. Jon needed this knowledge to make sure everything happens how it is supposed to. He finds Martin standing over a kettle. 

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, yes. I just put it down to harshly. Everything is fine. You don’t have to check on me all the time.”

“Yes, of course.” Jon shakes his head. “I just thought… no matter. I will be back the archive.”

Jon turns back and walks back across the hall. Tim is sitting by his desk, looking at his phone. Jon **knows** he is looking at the photo of his brother. He is deep in thought about the prospect of revenge ad justice so Jon leaves him be.

Sasha comes out of the elevator with a binder under her arm. She has found what she as looking for and plans to finish up today’s research. She wants to talk to Tim. He will tell her less than he felt compelled to tell Jon. But enough to feel better. Jon decides to leave him in her hands. 

Back in his office, he files the statement under the section he has devoted to the Desolation. He **knows** when people send by Elias get down to the Archives and start getting the stuff out of the storage room. 

He moves to the archive where he has taken it upon himself to sort through the files. He still has to put together the true statements into cohesive files. He starts by looking for the end of the statement of a woman abducted by aliens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> funny fact: learning to edit this fanfic is helping me with editing my academic papers. sure as hell I'm not telling my lecturer how I got those sick skills of dividing things into paragraphs


	6. Chapter 6

After all is said and done Jon stands proudly with his team looking at the newly repossessed False Statements room. Full of boxes stocked with files ready to be unloaded into the shelves it presents a much better picture than a broom closet it used to be. Unpacking all of those files will take them a few days but Jon remains optimistic. 

The pleasure he feels mixes with a slow blink from the Eye watching over them.

The space left in the archive is going to be taken by new bookshelves so it will finally look like a proper Archives.

“Took us long enough.” Tim puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Finally I won’t have to move around stacks of papers or move them with my foot.”

“I think we’ve been putting on steady progress with the number of files recorded on the PCs and those Jon has been updating on tapes.” Martin tries to defend them.

“Sure. In the next one hundred years, we could probably finish up.”

“Oh, leave it, Tim. Let us just be proud.” Sasha rolls her eyes at him.

“Does it involve drinks this Friday?” 

“It may.”

“Then I am proud of us.”

“No drinking in the middle of the week.” Jon tries to get the hair out of his eyes by blowing some air at them.

When it doesn’t work he unties the loose pony and gathers any loose strands to tie them up again. Martin observes his moves from out of his eye and tries not to blush at Tim’s knowing gaze. The sweater rides up showing Jon’s stomach. He is thin underneath, his wiry muscles showing. The illusion hides his scars but fortunately it doesn’t have to make him look more healthy. His power funnels him, making sure there is enough meat on his bones.

“Even if our boss is drinking with us?” 

“Even then.”

“What if we asked our boss’s boss to go?”

“Still no.”

“Boss’s boss’s boss?”

“Who would that even be?” Sasha chimes in.

“Technically anyone who is paying Elias.” Martin scratches his chin thinking. 

“Which is why we can drink during company galas.” Tim sounds proud of his deduction skills.

“Or because they usually take place during Friday nights.”

“I like my explanation better.”

With his hair put in its place, Jon looks around the room for the last time taking note of every statement’s place. He has been thinking about living them in their boxes to please the Spiral even more, but that amount of chaos in the shrine to the Beholding sat badly with him.

“I think it is time to finish up for today.” He decides. 

“Wait, no more overhours? Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Simms?” 

Jon scowls to hide the sudden pang he feels in his chest. 

“If you really want to you can start up on putting everything in alphabetical order.”

“Nope, I’m done.” Tim makes a beeline to his desk. 

Sasha follows after him but not before shooting an apologetic gaze towards Jon. Martin stays behind, turned towards Jon but not looking straight at him. He fidgets nervously.

“I am… sorry.” He starts finally. “For blowing up to your face before. You have been telling me all those nice things and in return, I shouted at you. I’m sorry. I just… I’m not used to this. And I don’t know how to react and I sometimes overreact.”

His thoughts go even further. ‘ _You are finally taking notice of me and all I do is act like a child. I’m so happy you are talking to me. You look good with your hair tied like this. I don’t know why you are this nice to me but please don’t stop_.’

“It’s ok, Martin. Really.” Jon wants to take a step closer to put his hand on Martin’s arm. Or better yet hug him. It feels like overstepping boundaries. 

“Oh, good. Thanks.” He moves from one foot to the other. “I will be going then.”

Martin flees to get his things. He has felt like crawling out of his own skin out of mortification. 

He has been so awkward around Jon. Jon who is telling him compliments. Jon who has trusted him to record a statement. Jon who is happy to drink his tea.

He feels torn between being so happy he could burst and not wanting to say any word more so he doesn’t screw this up. He decides to bravely face any teasing from Tim if that means hearing more from Jon. 

Fortunately, Sasha seems to be on his side, if the amount of times she has glared at Tim is any indication.

* * *

Jon waits until his assistants leave before heading to the Artifact Storage. 

He has all of his things with him so he can head right to Elias’ office after he is finished. Most of the staff has left for the day so he feels pretty safe wandering around the Institute with an axe.

He feels eyes observing him and **knows** he is being watched. It feels slightly different than the Beholding’s usual scrutiny. He wonders if Elias is afraid of what he could do to the Institute. Or maybe the man already knows that it is as important to Jon as it is to him. 

Inside the Storage, Jon makes sure to bar the doors leading out. He is sure he can dispatch the thing hiding inside the Table rather quickly but there is no use taking chances. He is here to make things right. There is no room for mistakes.

He clutches the axe feeling it smooth edges digging inside his skin. He looks around wondering if there will appear any additional doors to rescue him if something goes wrong. 

The spiral on his arm pulses as it usually does which brings him all the needed reassurance. The eye carved into him also answers but here he doesn’t take his chances. The Beholding kind always preferred watching the tragedy befall others, friends, and enemies alike.

Jon opens the second pair of doors and finds himself in front of a typical looking table. If not for the web design all over it it would emanate only the Stranger’s power. Over it, he can sense delicate yet sturdy lines knotted in different parts of the table. 

The design is mesmerizing. He feels bile at the back of his tongue. With a quick prayer to any god that may listen he takes the first swing.

With a loud crash the table breaks.

“Who? Archivist!” The creature roars.

Its voice doesn’t have the same pitch as Not-Sasha’s. Its sound doesn’t travel across space, just appears inside Jon’s ears. 

The table starts to distort, its edges blurred and from the center, smoke rises up. It creates a shape that may have been supposed to be a ball but the distortion is too big. 

Jon lets go of the axe. It clutters to the floor which the creature in front of him takes as a sign to attack. 

It thinks that without the axe he is helpless. It feels giddy at the opportunity to break the Beholding’s toy. 

Jon waits. The shape rushes at him, distorting everything that it touches. The floor no longer looks right, like someone has added new tiles and made sure they stick out of the floor. The air smells of copper and rust. 

The creature should have reached the Archivist by now. It brings more force into its rush. 

It wants to destroy him, take his place, and play with the Institute. It hasn't been here long but it wants to make sure the place is forever changed, made different, and unrecognizable. 

It quickens its pace. A stray thought of ‘why have I not devoured him yet?’ crosses its mind. 

The Archive smiles.

The creature has no eyes to see it but it knows that the rooms have become lighter. It has broken the bulbs on the ceiling with its attack. There should be no light. Yet the whole room is bathed by a green glow. 

It feels wrong. 

The creature wants to stop. To maybe turn back. It has never hesitated before. It isn’t in its nature. But right now it wants to. Instead, all it has left is to move towards that grinning being in front of it. 

A being that is supposed to be the Archivist but it isn’t. It feels wrong. The eyes watching it do not blink. They watch it with interest. It feels scrutinized from every possible side. It doesn’t want it. It wants to turn back, to run and hide inside the Table. The delicate pattern created by the Web suddenly feels not like a prison but like a safety net. 

The being with too green eyes blinks. All of its eyes close and the room is suddenly dark. The Stranger's creature doesn’t find any solace in the darkness. It knows it is being watched by a predator bigger than it is. 

“You seem to want something from me.” It says. “Or maybe you are here to play.”

A quiet hum answers it. It comes from everywhere. The feeling of being watched intensifies. 

Without any warning, there is heat searing from the center of its being. 

It burns.

**It burns.**

The creature lets out a scream. It doesn’t have a mouth to let the sound out. It bounces around its being. The scream makes the heat so much stronger. The pain doesn’t come from a flame but from a feeling of being known so thoroughly there is no place to hide, no lies to spun. It feels right and that rightness frightens it. It burns because the core of its being becomes twisted into something it itself doesn’t know. 

With a piercing scream echoing through it, the distortion disappears. It collapses into itself, its core annihilating every other part of it. 

It leaves behind a table, a few changed tiles, and The Archive standing in the same place it did before. The world realigns. The power lets its many eyes close. They feel raw after a night of tiring dreams. They missed being open, but their eyelids close slowly. 

They need time to get used to this strange new world. A fresh batch of blood makes them feel nicer, wetter. The Archive knows it will take time to learn this world and its eyes are going to need some adjusting. 

It opens its green, unassuming eyes. It looks around, taking in all of the fear left behind by the Stranger’s creature. It feels good to feed on something terrible. 

Jon slowly comes back. He doesn’t have to wrestle the rains from the Archive. The power slowly ebbs, the tide falling back. He takes a deep breath, cataloging all of the smells left by the creature. Among the clash of rust, blood, and the acrid smell of fear he senses the smell of ozone. 

It is fully his own and he cherishes it. The Institute should be marked by him as much as he has been marked by it. 

The redness left by the creature isn’t blood, but it too used to be the life force of that being. Bits of it have reached Jon’s face, but those that have fallen on his sweater evaporated, living colorful marks on the material. He raises his hand to prod one of the stains. It is no longer wool but something different. Each spot has been changed. Jon knows that the one he is touching is alpaca wool, and there are snakeskin and acryl woven into the material.

There is a gentle knock on the main doors of Artifact Storage. He doesn’t have to turn to know who is waiting for him. The eyes watching him through glass hasn’t left him for a while. He leaves the axe on the floor and turns his back to the broken table.

* * *

Elias waits for him outside. He doesn’t look perturbed at the damage done to the floor or the small barricade Jon has created. 

He is wearing his full suit with a coat hanging across his arm. He takes a quick look across Jon’s face but waits patiently until the Spiral’s illusion is dropped to reach his eyes. 

They look at each other for a few seconds, the tension slowly rising until Jon blinks. He feels too full, to satiated to fight any more battles. He feels like taking a long nap to fully digest all of the fear filling his belly.

“Hello again, Jon.”

“Elias. I thought you were going to wait.”

“Yes I was.” an unapologetic smile widens his thin lips. “I couldn't help myself and had to see how beautiful you have grown with my own two eyes.”

Jon wets his lips, taken aback. He has never looked at himself and thought ‘pretty’. During his change into the Avatar, his dark skin has grown ashen and the white streaks in black hair changed into black streaks in white hair. 

He used to feel old, stretched too thin to be considered his age. His 30th birthday felt more like a mockery instead of a celebration. 

Elias must sense his train of thought. A frown appears on his face as he takes a step closer.

“Come Jon. Tomorrow the staff will take care of the damage.”

Jon nods. He would love to witness people taking apart the marks left by the Stranger. He could even be the one to pick the right tiles to put in. 

Thought of a housewife fussing over the drapes she wants to buy for her house comes to his mind. He scoffs at himself but does not share the thought when Elias looks at him with raised eyebrows. 

“I think we should take care of your face before we depart.” Elias pulls out a fresh tissue from his pocket. Jon makes a move to take it from him, but the man is quicker.

He gets closer and with a quiet “Let me.” gently wipes Jon’s face.

He takes special care of the area around his eyes, not putting too much pressure but just enough. He moves Jon’s head to a side with his free hand, wipes his neck, and does the same thing to the other side. 

“Do I look presentable now?”

“Certainly.” Elias puts the tissue in his pocket but doesn’t let go of Jon’s face. He gently brushes his thumbs under his eyes. Their eyes are locked. 

Jon raises his hand to catch Elias around his left wrist. He puts a mild pressure on the fragile bones he can feel under the skin. It brakes Elias out of the trance he has fallen into. He lets go of Jon and moves back. Who would have thought that the eyes would turn to be his downfall?

They slowly move towards the elevators that will lead them to the parking lot. Elias keeps close, his free arm brushing against Jon’s. Their fingers brush too often for it to be a coincidence. Inside the elevator, Elias takes his coat and gently drapes it over Jon’s shoulders.

“It’s not that cold,” Jon mumbles into the collar.

He tries to hide the effect that the smell of musk he associates with Elias has on him. He wants to burrow his cheek into the warm wool.

“I would agree, if not for your new-found love for wearing only sweaters. I wouldn't want my Archivist to catch a cold.”

“Am I breaking the dress code?”

Elias chuckles. “The archives do not follow the standard dress code. I am sure Mr. Stoker's attire is a good testament to that.”

Jon thinks back to the Hawaii shirt Tim would wear in a day or two in the world that came before. It would be meant as a way to make Sasha laugh and maybe shock Martin.

“But I must say I like your new fashion sense.” Elias continues. “It is good to know you feel so comfortable inside the Institute.” 

“It is better once I know you can’t fire me.”

“Why would I ever do this?”

Jon thinks about his options. How much does he want to tease Elias? What can he reveal without it being too much? He doesn’t want the other man to bolt, to start planning the Watcher’s Crown or some other ritual.

“There would be that one time I let the Infestation into the Institute. Or the time Martin got you arrested.” He starts to see what reaction he can get.

Elias turns his head to look at him. He doesn’t gawk but his wide-open eyes are the closest thing he can do. It is unfair that the man makes it look so well. Jon burrows into the coat. His green eyes keep looking at his companion observing a swift storm of different emotions.

“I do wonder about the version of me that let it all happen.” He finally says.

“Like you weren’t going to use Prentiss to mark me.” Jon rolls his eyes and uses the opening door as an opportunity to escape.

He knows which car belongs to Elias so he makes a steady way towards it. 

A well-kept Mercedes that used to belong to the late head of the Institute that he has given to his assistant. Just like almost every other item he used to own. After all, what was he supposed to do without any children or a spouse?

“I won’t deny that my plans towards you weren’t innocent. But as you have noticed I am good at making sure that people I want to survive do so.” Elias follows him closely. “I’ve seen your potential to become something greater, to acquire the knowledge you so desperately wanted.”

For all his faults he is right. It is too cold to go around in a sweater alone. Jon is sure he hasn’t felt this cold back in the morning. The slow pulse of the spiral reminds him of a dropped disguise. He must ask Micheal if the thing is also capable of keeping him warm.

“I am what I am because of you.” Jon feels the rise of the power inside him. “For that, I can’t fault you. But the ways you used to reach this stage were often unnecessary. And too extra.”

The last comment that makes Elias sigh. He opens the passenger door for Jon and waits until he is comfortably seated before closing them. Once he reaches the other side of the car and gets in he has an answer ready.

“Foresight often makes us realize many things we did were unnecessary. If I knew the future I would have made different choices.” Elias starts the car and drives out of the parking lot. He has a clear destination in mind, one that Jon purposely doesn’t try to read. He wishes to be surprised after being stuck in a world devoid of surprises.

“You would have done all those things anyway.” Jon sighs. 

Elias mulls over the answer.

“And yet here you are.”

They stop at the red lights. Elias looks at Jon, taking him in. The red makes his skin look healthier. At least the parts not covered by his sweater and the large coat. He is looking ahead, maybe deciding whatever he has made a mistake. Elias isn’t used to anyone having secrets from him, not anymore. It feels thrilling to be able to guess and try to solve a puzzle.

“Losing your humanity doesn’t mean you begin to hurt people. Cruelty is our own invention.” Jon looks back at him. The lights change to green giving his eyes a weird glow. “But it gives you a perspective.”

Elias turns back to the road. Driving gives him an excuse not to get into another staring fight. He has noticed the weariness in Jon after his showdown with the Stranger. 

He wonders what he would have to do to make Jon lose control. To have all of the power spill out into the world. 

He leaves it for another time. 

“And what conclusion did you reach?”

“That you are well over your head.”

Elias presses his lips together. They turn white under the pressure, but he has to keep himself from letting out a frustrated sigh. This Jon is as fascinating as unfortunate. 

Unless what he is saying is true and the Watcher’s Crown really doesn’t bring him what he wants. This possibility makes him flinch. All he has done was for that purpose, all he has sacrificed.

“Then thank goodness you are here.”

“Yes, I think it is really fortunate.” The dryness of Jon's tone is almost infuriating.

They remain silent for the rest of the journey. Rain starts falling down on the car, lulling Jon into a meditative state he has reached the night before with Micheal by his side. He lets the blurry scenery slip past, the windows too foggy to see anything more than moving shapes.

* * *

Only once they stop in front of a house he knows without even trying that belongs to Elias does he fully come to awareness. 

“Jon?” He feels Elias putting his hand on his shoulder. “We are here.”

“Yes, yes.” He feels as groggy as he sounds. “I’m up.”

He nearly stumbles out of the car, but the rain wakes him up. He stretches, working the kinks out of his muscles, and tries to walk around puddles. He succeeds aided by the subtle signals coming from the eye on his thigh every time he gets too close.

It is too dark outside to see the house fully, but he knows it isn't too big. Just enough for one man to leave comfortably with a too-big collection of books. 

He reaches the entrance door before Elias and waits patiently for the man. Once inside they get their shoes off and Jon passes the coat back. He feels strangely naked without it.

He pulls at the sleeves of his sweater, finding comfort in the spiral’s pulse. 

Elias leads him to the kitchen where he washes his hands and begins preparing dinner. He pours them two glasses of wine and tells Jon he doesn’t have to help with anything. He is a guest after all. 

Jon takes his glass, catalogs all of the knowledge he has about the brand of wine, how it came to Elias’ possession, and how people rate it online. He leans against the kitchen island and observes Elias. 

The man has lost his jacket back at the entrance and now rolls up his sleeves. He begins preparing dinner by taking out the meat. Jon tries not to look at it but his gaze falls instead at the muscles moving under the skin as Elias begins to tenderize it. Out of option, he turns to look at different parts of the kitchen.

“If you would be so kind to satiate my curiosity, does this world differ from yours? Or are you sure we are one and the same?” Elias doesn’t comment on how red Jon’s ears are but his knowing glance is enough.

“They used to be. But not any longer. I am here and that changes everything.”

“What about things that are meant to happen?”

“Are you telling me you believe in destiny?” Jon looks back at Elias with raised eyebrows. “Who would even write it?”

“Hmm, I wouldn't phrase it like this. It isn’t destiny but simple cause and effect.”

“Then I have severed it. I am making sure there are no more causes.”

Elias moves to cutting the vegetables. He has put the meat on the pan and the smell of spices starts to fill the kitchen.

“I have thought about your offer.” He continues offhandedly.

Jon takes a sip of his wine. He feels like this conversation may bring out a headache. 

The pleasurable feeling of fullness in his stomach doesn’t help. It makes him want to relax, to be truthful just so he can share his knowledge. 

He is the Archive, he gathers the knowledge so it can be reviewed one day. 

The alcohol brings another kind of relaxation. The one that makes him want to check if Elias is as strong as he looks. Using a pipe to kill a man indicated he probably is. But to feel it would be a completely new experience. Jon takes another gulp.

“And?”

“I have seen how powerful you are. I have felt it.”

“You haven’t felt anything.”

“Pardon?”

“I have seen you, yes. But you wouldn't have survived if I **saw** you.” The static in his words makes the glass shudder.

“Well then. What I am meaning to say is I know you are powerful. The bending of the powers to accommodate you is incredible.” Elisa tosses the vegetables into the pan. “What I want to know Jon is, are you willing to give me what I have been looking for?’

“Have you heard of Trevor Herbert? Or Nathaniel Thorp? You know of Agnes of course.”

Elias nods along. He washes his hands and stands at the other side of the kitchen’s island with his own glass of wine in hand. Jon wonders whatever he should move back from where he is leaning on his elbows. Elias observes him gently swaying his glass. 

Wine sloshes from side to side but never falls outside of the glass. 

“I do know them, yes.” After Gertrude’s death, he has read some statements that ring true. 

“And have you never wondered how the Eye has led you to find out how to transfer yourself from body to body instead of simply granting you immortality? It is clearly in its power. Most of these people have other abilities connected to their entities. It isn’t just staying alive that they have been granted.”

Jon takes a satisfying sip. He can almost see the gears turning. 

One.

Two.

Three.

“You are implying that the Eye has given me this way on purpose.”

Jon wants to use the finger guns gesture that Tim always does when someone says something obvious.

“You are immortal in your own way aren’t you? But it is not enough. The only way you think it will be enough is when the Watcher’s Crown is done.”

Elias runs his tongue along his teeth. He is putting together the information he has just gathered and trying to compare it to anything he has known thus far.

“Or maybe it is just the way that Eye grants immortality. It is in its name after all.” Jon shrugs. “All in all, you are doing what you are supposed to. And maybe you should check on the dinner. It is kind of burning.”

Elias takes a huge gulp of his wine before turning to the stove. He is busy with putting their meal on the plates which Jon uses to silently gloat. 

He feels good while talking to Elias. He is finally getting some payback from the times he was the one bumbling in the dark. The Archive also feels satisfied by using its knowledge. And the power seems to have a soft spot for the one that has brought it into existence. It hums turning to a catlike purr when Elias turns back to Jon.

“We should move it to the dining room. If you could take our glasses.”

Jon follows after him to another big, well-decorated room. If the kitchen has been made in to look modern and to accommodate all of the newest appliances the dining room looks like someone has designed it back in the XVIII century and never changed it. 

The walls are painted in a warm color, which makes the fireplace stood out even more. Jon knows how much the white marble it has been created with cost, but he tries to turn his head away from the naked torsos of the man sculpted in stone. 

The table standing in the middle of the room looks old, dark wood well conserved but years of use could be seen under the right light. Elias deposits their meals in front of each other, so they can look in the eye while eating. Jon lays their drinks and sits down. 

The chair is plush and almost too comfortable. He **knows** that just like the knife, the table and the chairs used to belong to Jonah Magnus’ old house. 

Elias leaves the room to get the silverware. Jon takes another sip of the wine, wishing for a refill. He may have projected the thought because Elias comes back not only with forks and knives but also the bottle he has opened in the kitchen. He refills Jon’s glass, gently lays down cutlery, and takes his own place. 

Jon finds himself hungry for a normal meal. The want comes to him so suddenly he almost feels the whiplash. He starts eating not caring for the scrutiny he is being observed with. The meat is tender and well cooked. He wants to praise it but doesn’t know how to do it without it sounding too awkward. Talking about ancient monstrosities feels much easier than small talk. 

“I hope everything is up to your liking.” Now Jon starts getting suspicious whatever he is projecting his thoughts. A self-satisfied smile on Elias’s face doesn’t help.

“Yes. It is good. Very good.” He swallows. “I never knew you are such a good cook.”

Not that he had any occasion to find out.

“I’ve had time to master it.” The quiet snort from Jon makes Elias smile wilder.

“I can’t imagine it was at the top of your to-do list.”

“Hmm, no. But having servants did become frowned upon as time went on.”

“You could have always hired a cook.”

“With the salary of the head of the Institute? Jon, please. Evading taxes is hard enough with a house in the middle of London and a car.”

“Really. You are evading taxes? Shouldn't it be easier with being a new person every few years?”

“It is. But some items become harder to pass on as time progresses.”

Like an ancient table or a dagger with historical value.

“Right. Of course.”

They continue eating for a while. Jon feels too happy to feel the taste of spices and different vegetables to keep up the small talk. The wine is sweet on his tongue and it makes him forget the feeling of ash filling his mouth in the world before. He feels finally satisfied. 

“You haven’t really answered my question.” Elias looks over the rim of his glass. Jon seen through it looks bigger, his hair much longer and out of its tie. They float around him, not caring for the laws of gravity. There are many lines adorning his skin, looking like scars carved with surgical precision. Elias knows though they aren’t scars. They are eyelids waiting to open.

“Which one?” The sass suits Jon even though it makes the other man let a put-on sigh.

“You have decided to give me the pleasure of dining with you. You have come to me. My question stands: why?” Looking the gifted horse in the mouth isn’t always the best of ideas. But the curiosity. The curiosity is threatening to eat Elias alive.

“Because I wanted to.” 

“And yet you lead me to believe there was animosity between you and the me from your world.”

“Animosity? No, that’s not the right word. You have made me after all.” Jon snorts. “Only then did you discard me, sure that I am going to come to you. And I did. You just didn’t like it.”

“Did you kill me?”

“Perhaps. But just like I am not judging you by the things you won’t do you shouldn't judge me by the things you won’t make me do.”

There is no need for the glass to see the power surrendering Jon. Each of his words echoes in a space that shouldn't allow for the echo to be heard.

“You want a different answer.” Jon straightens. “My power calls to you. It **knows** you and will know you no matter what happens. You and Micheal. You are the monsters that I prefer to have under my bed to scare off others. Even though Micheal has been the one to actually rescue me a few given times.”

“That creature.” Elias feels chastised by the possibility he has been outdone but that being. “You told me you won’t judge me by the deeds done by my predecessor. I think it should also include those he hasn’t done.”

“Are you planning to rescue me, Jonah?” Ah, to hear his name, said in this voice. Elias’s eyes fall shut in pleasure. 

“I do not think you need rescuing from anything, my dear.”

“Help then? Actual help in exchange for immortality.”

“I would prefer to call it a gift from you for my aid.”

“Right. “ Jon slowly collapses into his own body. The subtle feeling of tiredness that has been following him since his fight with the NotThem hits him even harder when he is full of wine and well-made supper. He finishes his meal in record time.

“Should we move to my study?” Elias proposes.

“Yes, that does sound good.” Jon gets up with an almost happy sigh. “Do you need any help with cleaning?”

“No, I will take care of it later.” Elias leads him further into the house. It feels like entering the lion’s den. He feels the pale gaze follow him from every painting they pass by. 

“I am right here.” He says sternly. “You don’t have to keep on following me.”

Elias doesn’t answer but his shoulders shake in a silent laugh.

They enter the study. It has a cozy sofa and two love chairs in front of another fireplace. The walls are stacked with bookshelves. 

Jon can feel the power emanating from every piece of paper hidden inside this room. It feels heady to be inside a room with so many secrets. 

Without waiting for any form of permission he moves towards one of the shelves. There is a story that sings to him, making the eye carved into his skin tingle so strongly his knees feel weak. 

Elias turns on the lights and decides to start a fire inside the fireplace while observing Jon from the corner of his eye. He isn’t sure which book has made him bold but he is endlessly curious. He makes sure the fire is burning steadily before he turns towards his guest. 

Jon stands with his back to the bookshelf, the book he wanted held steadily in his hands. He seems to drink in every word written in it, his eyes quickly moving from one side of the page to another. 

His eyes shine. 

Elias can see them now, all of them blazing with hunger. Some of them are looking right back at him. Observing, cataloging. They want to pick him apart. They want to **see** him. 

He wants to be seen by them. Some deep part of him wants to be witnessed by this terrible being standing in his study in old jeans and a torn sweater. This creature that is as big as the god that he has been serving for more than a hundred years. 

He feels out of his depth faced by the fact that he is the creator of this new god. He has succeeded. Yet something went wrong. The testament to that is the fact that his Archive is standing in front of him there and then instead of enjoying ruling the world of fear with him on the throne. 

“Do you know? Of course, you don’t.” Jon shakes his head without looking up. “The Extinction isn’ the first power that wants to emerge. Probably won’t be the last” He trails off. He seems to once again engross himself in reading.

Elias steps closer to see the book that has entrusted his Archive. The many eyes follow his every move. 

He wants to touch them. To see if they feel just like normal eyes, which he had the displeasure of touching during his anatomy studies. Or maybe they are made of something more solid. Their whites are as pale as the marble he hires a maid to clean every two weeks. 

Some of them peeking from under the loose collar of the sweater are as green as Jon’s standard eyes. There is also one blue just under his ear. A brown pair rests on his cheeks. Elias notices a pair of steely gray eyes that resemble his own too close for comfort. 

The book turns out to be something he has picked up from Lukas’s library. He is sure that Peter has noticed but likely didn’t care. Jon looks at the book like it has all of the answers in the world. It talks about how the thoughts of many people can manifest into something touchable, something real. Each thought has energy so if many people think about the same thing the energy may become matter. Elias has disregarded it as it wasn’t connected to his search. He has read it out of curiosity only to put it back on the shelf. And he has heard of the Extinction during Peter's shore leave. Once again it didn’t involve anything concerning immortality so he let it go. He feels weirdly affronted by the possibility he may have overlooked a solution to his problem.

Jon finally closes the book and sighs. His gaze is steady when he looks at Elias. 

“You and I. The bond we will form will be the link to give you what you want and to keep the world afloat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten so invested in writing this story, like you can't believe. Thank you all for your kind comments. They also fuel my obsession with writing this thing. It is getting rather long but the IDEAS are just too good to pass.  
> Funny fact: I was one philosophical reference in Jon/Elias conversation from it becoming Will/Hannibal one. Those pairings give me the same vibe. Which is why we have the cooking scene. I had to


	7. Chapter 7

After the revelation, Jon moves to one of the love chairs. He passes by Elias, letting their shoulders brush. It shouldn't matter, after all, it is only the wool of his sweater touching the carefully crafted white shirt. 

He cannot even feel the heat of Elias’s body. But he knows it is there. He  ** knows  ** the temperature of his body, knows how thin the fabric of the shirt is. Each fiber calls to him with the secrets of its wearer. He can tell that he isn’t alone in this knowledge. The slight sway in Elias’s posture, a barely concealed want to lean in gives him away. They both gravitate into each other. 

He chooses the chair instead of the sofa. He doesn’t want to fall into the trap of human touch. Or just touch in their case. Not much humanity left between them.

“What does the forming of this bond entail?” Elias follows after him. 

He doesn’t have any qualms about sitting on the sofa. He leans back, watching Jon watch him. Their eyes meet and Elias isn’t the first one to blink. It would feel like a victory if not for all of the other eyes watching him still.

“We will use your first body. I assume. It is still foggy.” Jon shuts his eyes. He presses his fingers against the closed eyelids and gently massages them. Colorful patterns that appear dance into a rhythm set by the spiral on his leg. The quiet hitch of breath makes him look up. He doesn't know how to assure Elias he isn’t going to harm him. He wonders if he could ask him what kind of promise would make him believe Jon. That would be even more awkward than talking to Martin. “That book. There are hints, but the conclusion must be my own.”

He swallows his worry. 

“And when will you want to create this bond?” 

“Soon. I don’t know how soon though.” Elias hasn’t moved but the air around him has changed. It is not uncertainty. There is an instantaneous calculation going on behind that steel eyes. “First I want to take care of the Stranger’s ritual. And I assume you will want some time to think this through.”

Elias hums but doesn’t answer. His face remains placid. If not for the movement of his chest Jon would worry he isn’t looking at the statue. If his  ** knowing  ** would let him worry about something like this. 

The bond has been an idea that came to him while reading the book. He remembers the statement about Agnes and Gertrude very well. The bond has kept Agnes from being a part of the ritual. It has given her a chance to love. But Gertrude was human. And he isn’t. 

He doesn’t know what he is exactly, but he hopes that he will be enough to keep Elias from doing something stupid. He can admit that he would hate to kill the man. Yet there are things more important than his old crush from back when he was just an ordinary worker of the Institute. Or the feeling of care he felt back when he was just starting to explore his powers. 

“And how will this affect us?” Elias finally asks. 

“I am not sure.”

Which isn’t helpful. Elias wonders if Jon is lying to him. If he is withholding the information just to test him. All gods are known for testing their worshipers. And all gods love sacrifices. 

He wonders what he will have to sacrifice to prove himself to this one. He already feels how much easier it will be to worship Jon than it ever has been to worship the Eye.

“And yet you expect me to trust you with it.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” There is a way to prove it. Jon feels uncomfortable thinking about it. He can do it, he is sure of that. His mouth feels dry. He weighs his options. “I will not use it to take control of you. Unless it will concern the Watcher’s Crown or the health, including the mental health, of those working for the Archives.” He fills his words with power. He pushes them into Elias, lets him see the truth behind them. He makes him witness what Jon wants him to see. He isn’t lying. 

When he pulls back they are still sitting in the study with a warm glow of the fireplace making shadows dance in the corners of the room.

“You already bear the crown.” Elias takes care not to show his reaction to the power used on him. It feels completely different from the few times he had to use it on others. “I see no point in giving it again if you do not want it.”

“I didn’t want it the first time.”

“Are you sure? It did give you a chance to come here.”

Elias gets him there. All of the pain and sorrow he has witnessed and caused gave him an opportunity to save everyone. To make sure it will never happen. If he is the only one barring this weight, this crown, he is willing to admit it is worth it.

“I didn't want it, but you insisted so strongly I had to use it.” Jon shrugs trying to look convinced of his words. He isn’t lying after all. The Elias from before was pretty insistent.

“Of course. Such power shouldn't go to waste.”

“Especially when it can give you immortality?” That causes a slight smile to appear. 

The mask is broken, the statue becomes human once again. Elias relaxes into his seat. 

“Yes, you can say that. I have one more question. You said that you will not influence my will unless it concerns those working at the Archives. But what about others? Does your protection not involve other people?” The smile turns teasing. Elias wants to poke and prod this new Archivist but it feels more like a question between friends than an accusation.

Jon doesn’t react with hostility, not like he used to before becoming what he is. Now when he can feel the power, the hum of the spiral and small jolts from the eye. They calm him and guard him even when he is the one making sure the Archive doesn’t try to take over the world. 

“The Powers are like the forces of nature. They will affect the world, they will cause pain and fear because that is their nature. To serve them means to feed them. I will not save every human from being afraid, from coming into contact with the Lonely or the Buried. You just like any other Avatar have to feed. As long as it doesn’t mean ending the world and harming those that are under my protection you can do as you please.”

“A pragmatic answer.”

“It is all I have left.”

“I can’t agree. Knowing when you have to cease is a strength of its own.” Elias furrows his brow. This won’t do. If he is going to worship a god it should know it deserves it. After all, he wouldn't swear his loyalty to something not deserving it. And the if of whatever he is going to worship Jon is becoming more and more of when and where. “Even the current Powers aren’t omnipotent.”

Jon fidgets. He has been telling himself the same thing. The guilt has been his quiet companion for a very long time. 

Even when he has decided to set everything right he could hear it whispering about all of the victims he could save. Those that will come to give their statements much later in the timeline. He could go to them right now and make sure they are never traumatized by the Power they were unfortunate to encounter. But another part of him, the one with too many eyes and teeth sharper than Micheal’s claws objected. The Powers are a part of the world and his role is to archive their influence on the world. He can bend the rules, he can create some of his own. But in the end, he is the Archive. It is his nature to gather not to change.

“And they aren’t sentient. It is not that they show restraint when it comes to things they can’t change. They simply don’t do it since they can’t.” Jon counters. He wants to add something more, which Elias must sense since he doesn’t voice any of his own rebuttals. He waits but finally, Jon sighs. “I don’t know if it makes me better or worse to know the consequences of my choices, to feel bad because of them but still chose them.”

“Neither. You are what you are, my Archivist. You are flawed because you were born human. But each of your choices has brought you here. Given you this chance. You have no responsibility to save the world from itself.”

“I am saving it from you.” 

“Maybe this is enough. I asked out of curiosity. It wasn’t my intention to bring out this pensive mood.”

“Elias. I know when you are lying. You wanted to see what I would do.” Jon shakes his head. “And I answered because I needed to say it out loud.”

“Is your monster not suitable for such conversations?”

This question seems to come out of nowhere. Jon lets out a surprised “huh” at the change of topic. He feels as surprised as Elias looks. There are certain implications to this question being asked. And Jon feels obliged to know what those are. If not because of his own nature then because of that soft spot he has always had for Elias. 

“Are you? Elias Bouchard, ** are you jealous of Micheal ** ?” Jon could be daft. He has been when it came to Martin’s feelings towards him. But right now he is almost sure he is right.

“Yes. You belonged to me first. To the Institute and the Beholding. The Spiral had no right to be bonded with you before it.” The words are pulled out slowly. Elias looks pained by each of them. The truth feels like a stab of his old knife. “If I am to worship you I want to be the highest priest. Your perfection deserves only the best.” Finally, he manages to close his mouth. He swallows the rest of the words that have tried to crawl out of his throat. It seems to take a lot of physical restraint not to talk anymore. 

Jon just stares for a few good seconds. “To be precise it was the Web that got to me first.” He replays out of a need to break the tense silence.

“It touched you but you have never belonged to it. Your curiosity drove you to the Institute and was the reason why I hired you.” Elias speaks out of his own free will.

A line of sweat appeared on his brow out of the struggle against Jon’s compulsion. He looks disheveled even in his pristine shirt and perfectly pressed pants. He licks his lips to hide his need to take a deeper breath with his mouth. Jon is sure if Elias dropped the whole pretense he would be panting. A blush peeks from under the shirt’s collar, climbing higher until even Elias’s cheeks are red. 

“Yes, you are in a way right.” Jon muses. “I would apologize for the compulsion but you seem to…” He pauses to look him up and down. ”...like it.” 

And that is the biggest truth Elias has been trying to hide. How the control is taken from him, the compulsion to finally tell the truth has affected him. It is arousal but also the want for more. He feels lightheaded and almost wishes he hasn’t broken it.

“Here I thought you didn’t read other people’s minds.” He tries to chide Jon, to buy some time for himself. 

“I didn’t have to.” Jon gets out of his chair and moves closer to join Elias on the sofa. 

He wants to catalog each effect that his power has on this man. Their knees brush when he sits down. The warmth he has known to be there is finally close enough to be felt. 

He raises his hand to touch Elias’s face. He is careful, taking in the smell of cologne and natural musk. He quickly disregards the information about the brands of cosmetics Elias uses, even though the list is a long one. The skin under his finger is smooth, but when the tips of his fingers travel down he can feel the prickle of the stubble. 

He cradles his jaw. He can feel Elias’s hooded gaze, waiting for something but not pressing. Elias nuzzles into his hand, turns his head enough to kiss one of the fingers. 

“Your power is extraordinary.” He whispers, barely audible. The words feel like a secret. “You are so much more than I have ever hoped to achieve.”

Jon hums again, acknowledging the words. He gently traces his earlobe and presses under it. It makes Elias close his eyes and lean harder into the hand cradling his face. “My beautiful Archivist.” The words of endearment make Jon sigh.

He wonders if they are true. After all this Elias doesn't know him that well. He only knows the Jon that used to be, a man who loves his job but can be prickly about nearly anything to hide his feeling of awkwardness and impostor syndrome. A man scared of spiders and so lonely he preferred to spend his evenings working so he wouldn't have to face lying in bed for hours before he could fall asleep.

A warm hand enveloping his own brings him out of his thoughts. He notices that he has been staring at Elias’s cheek for a good minute. He looks up and locks his eyes with the man that has started it all. 

“You went far away.” Elias notices. He squeezes the hand holding his face. 

“Just to another world.” Jon shrugs to hide embarrassment. 

“Ah, of course.” Another kiss is pressed into Jon’s palm. Then another. It is his burned hand and the touch doesn’t quite register as it should. It feels like the smallest pressure, but the knowledge of lips touching him is more than enough. 

“No, not of course.” Jon wants to think he doesn’t sound petulant. Elias’s raised eyebrows make it hard to believe. “You do not know what it was like in there. Our experience differs from the point in time when I came back. Yesterday was the last day you and me both had the same past.” Jon shakes his head. He wants Elias to understand. To see. His worship should be based on knowledge and faith, in understanding what the creature in front of him is even if Jon isn’t ready to tell him everything. Maybe he never will. “I know you. But you don’t know me.”

Elias stops his kisses. An unexpected feeling of loss appears in Jon’s chest, not too far from his heart. 

“I will learn. Though you cannot fault me for feeling like I  ** know  ** what you are.” The words are no longer whispered and the smirk that accompanies them makes Jon huff in amusement. 

“You seem certain of that. Yet I doubt your ability to restrain yourself from committing something rather stupid.” Elias blinks languidly. Like a pleased cat, he again nuzzles into Jon’s hand. “Why are you so happy about this? You agreed so easily.” Jon trails off.

“Why should I oppose? You are promising me something I’ve wanted for a very, very long time, Jon. And it comes in such a pleasing package.” Elias pulls his hand away, so he can freely hold it between his. “As you have said before: you  ** know  ** me. How could I not follow someone like you?”

“You are afraid.” Jon murmurs with wonder. It feels like a secret. Like a knowledge that has been there from a start but he hasn’t dared to reach out for it. “Ah, of course. The deepest fear of someone serving the Eye should be to be known. And now you are.”

“Now I am.” Elias’s eyes blaze with something dangerous. He still holds Jon’s hand lightly but there is a threat of force in the slow drag of his thumb against Jon’s pulse. “I am known by something out of this world. By something that has eaten my dinner, has worked in my Institute. By something that wears the skin of my Archivist, acts like him, feels like him. Something that is him. And I  ** know  ** that it feels my fear. Like blood in the water.” Elias smiles but it isn’t a happy smile. It is an action made out of instinct to bear his teeth in front of a bigger predator. 

“And all that stands between you and being seen completely is my desire not to let you burn for everything you have done.”

“You could say I am not used to depending on mercy.”

“No, you prefer to be the one in power. The one capable of giving or taking away.”

The air feels heavy. Jon can feel his power around them. He is witnessing something new, something he desires to archive. To remember. He wonders if his will to know is influencing Elias. He pries open the door behind which his power is hiding. Gently so he isn’t flooded with the information he doesn’t want.

“Yet here you are loving this feeling. The surprise, the unexpected. You will get what you want but even without it I am a gift to you.” Jon’s eyes widen. “And you want to hear me say it. You have wanted me since we met back when Gertrude was the Archivist. A passing fancy you didn’t follow since you were too busy with her. But the Web around me. It stuck out to you. You were curious and when we met after you’d killed her you knew I would be perfect for further marking. And now you know I am the right choice. The perfect choice.” 

Elias waits until he finishes to lean in and kiss him. He pulls on the hand he is holding so Jon has to move forward. He can break away but he is curious. How will it feel?

At first, they bump into each other. The momentum of sudden pull is too much for Jon to coordinate his movement. Then he feels Elias’s hand on his face, moving it a little up, and finally, he feels his lips on his. There is no surprise in the fact that Elias is a great kisser. His lips are soft and they move softly. Jon tries to reciprocate even though he feels like a fumbling teenager. He finds it is most fortunate that Elias feels more than happy to take control of their kiss. Kissing has always been a curious experience for him. The concept of it is mildly disgusting. Yet the process itself is pleasing. 

“Where have you gone to, Jon?” Elias pulls back a little. They stay close enough that each word makes their lips brush.

“It’s nothing. Sorry.” Jon feels the heat on his cheeks. 

Elias uses the hand on his face to play gently with the hair at the back of his neck. It makes Jon arch into the touch. He wants to lean into the hand cradling his skull but at the same time, the feeling of slight pain grounds him in this reality. The reaction makes Elias smile and leans in for another kiss. This time it is more heated like there is a purpose other than just testing the waters. Elias pulls Jon closer, and soon the Archivist finds himself sitting across his boss’s lap.

“Huh?” Jon lets out the most intelligent answer he can think of. He decides that kissing besides being weirdly nice is also very distracting.

“I wouldn't want to assume Jon but it seemed like you and that creature are close enough to go this far.”

“That is pretty much the definition of assuming Elias. “ Jon rolls his eyes. “And you are incorrect. I and Micheal share a different bond.”

“Ah, then I shouldn't worry about its scent being all over you.” Elias puts his hand under the loose sweater to run his fingertips across Jon’s back. He circles each visible [krąg] he can feel under the skin. 

“No, you shouldn't.” Jon shudders when Elias presses his whole palm against his back. “It belongs to me not the other way round. Just like you do.”

This time Jon is the one to initiate the kiss. He keeps it soft, like a promise of something greater just dancing across their lips. Elias presses for more, deepening the kiss He uses his tongue to gently swipe across Jon’s lips, and once he is granted access he presses inside. One kiss becomes another. And then another. They stay like this until the fire inside the fireplace burns to ambers and Jon can feel a slight pain in his back after staying in a weird position for too long. 

“I should be going.” He pulls away a little. A hand on his back supports him, but he still hasn’t been able to get used to the touch. It feels too hot on his skin, like a brand as powerful as the spiral and the eye.

“I suppose so.” Elias doesn’t look ready to let him go.

His hair no longer looks perfect, Jon’s hands have done a good job of pulling and twisting the strands lose. At some point, the top button of his shirt has been unbuttoned which shows that the slight blush on his cheeks travels even lower. 

His arousal is visible and if Jon wanted to he could press against the tent in his trousers. Elias would be delighted by it, but the Archivist doesn’t acknowledge it. He simply leans in for another kiss before getting up. He knows that Elias won’t take it to himself. 

After all, the man does know Jon’s preference. A thought comes to him. Something that Tim would probably say he should do. A stupid thought. He decides to listen to it before he loses his conviction. He leans into Elias one last time, just enough so he can whisper slowly a promise.

“Next time I think I would like to help you with that.” He brushes a quick kiss against Elias’s cheek. “I will find my way out.” 

He turns away quickly. His cheeks are burning and he feels stupid. Like a teenager teasing his first partner. It was so stupid. With quick steps, not too quick, remember you aren’t running away Jon, he leaves the study.

Elias doesn’t follow him, which is small mercy since he can feel eyes following him across the corridor. He gets to the entrance in no time. He puts on his shoes and, following another stupid idea that even Tim would probably not give him, takes the coat hanging where he left it. He puts it on. The sleeves are almost too long for him but it is warm and still smells of Elias.

It feels good, especially when Jon leaves through a door that wasn't there before and won’t be there once he closes them. 

* * *

The corridors feel different than they used to. The darkness is welcoming and the twists and turns are welcome. He could travel them for hours and never feel lost. It is a danger of its own.

He wonders if he stayed inside the corridors would everything happen like it was supposed to? Would Prentiss attack the Institute? Would there be a team ready to disrupt the Unknowing? The ritual will fail no matter what. But would his team get involved in any of that if he isn’t there to initiate it? 

He knows that Elias wouldn't let him hide forever. He knows that he wouldn't want to hide forever. There is too much he has to lose. But now, when he is warm and full he wants to just be. Without the need to plan, to worry. He presses his hand against the black wall as he walks. It is smooth under his palm. The wallpaper is covered by swirling silver spirals moving whenever he turns to look ahead. The rug is soft under his feet. It looks old and a stray thought of giving Micheal a new one makes Jon smile to himself. 

He pulls his hand back to see if any of the blackness of the wall has followed and stayed on his fingertips. His palm is as clean as ever. The ridges of the scar make it look rough even though he knows the skin is smooth, maybe a little dry.

“There you are, Archivist.” He hears from up ahead. At the end of the corridor is an open door. Micheal stands there waiting for him, with a smile too big for its face. Jon smiles back. Although it is a tired, worn smile, it actually reaches his eyes.

“Yes, it seems I am here. Was I supposed to be somewhere else?” He presses forward to get closer to the other monster.

“No, I don’t think you were. You are where you should be.” Micheal lets him pass through the doorway. He finds himself back in his flat. It feels good to be home.

The strange tall monster at his back makes the whole picture even more perfect. He takes off his shoes and moves to take off the coat he has borrowed from Elias. He intends to give it back. At some point.

“It seems your meeting with the Watcher went well.” Micheal points out. It has moved to the couch, taking the same position it took yesterday. It seems to like its spot.

“Yes, I think it did. Elias has shared some truths.” Jon gets back to his living room. Without prompting Micheal turns and opens its arms. 

Just like that Jon is once again cuddling his monster on his couch. He lets himself relax. He wasn’t kidding when he said that Micheal belonged to him. He might have been lying about it being the one-way deal. The long arms around him tighten. 

“And I have shared some too. I want to use a ritual similar to the one connecting Gertrude and Agnes. If it goes well he will be bonded to me. And then when the Extinction becomes a problem we will find a way to make him the Avatar.” 

“Breaking away from the Eye? What an interesting concept, Archivist.” Micheal sounds amused by the idea. “Why would you want to take away its more precious toy?”

“Because I have a better candidate for the job.” Jon intervenes his fingers with the ones laying on his hip. They don’t match since Micheal’s fingers have three too many joints for them to be normal. Jon squeezes his hand lightly. “Sooner or later the Extinction will come and break the order set by the Powers already here. It is better for it to be dependable on someone already bound to me.”

“And does the Watcher know?”

“He knows he is going to get what he wants. Immortality.”

“Ah, the fear of death. Such a boring concept.” Micheal chuckles. “To think he hasn’t grown out of it for so many years.”

Jon shrugs. Or does his best while being surrendered by too-long limbs. 

“I cannot shake the feeling that all this time has made him fear it even more. Nevertheless, he gets what he wants. I get what I want.”

“Yes, you do.” Jon lets his head fall back. It lands on Micheal’s shoulder or more precisely on its hair. It is so light that Jon would have to squint if he looked at it directly. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel the softness of the strands gently moving across his cheek. They seem to have their own gravity, moving with Micheal’s breathing. Jon wonders if he should inform Micheal about kissing Elias. If the monster will care. He decides to risk it.

“It seems like the interest Elias has in me isn’t fully platonic. It seems like he has more intimate things in mind.” 

“Hmm. That isn't unexpected.”

“It isn’t?”

“Oh, Archivist. One doesn’t have to be human to know you are perfect.”

“You. Oh, shut it.” Jon flusters at the giggle he can feel against his back. “I just wanted you to know that I kissed Elias, okay. I wouldn't want to go behind your back or anything.”

“That’s very nice of you.” The amusement is palpable. “If you wanted a kiss from me you only had to ask.”

“No, I… You know what, never mind.” Jon looks up, feeling like praying to a big eye in the sky. “Fine.” He turns and presses a quick kiss against the smiling lips. They feel normal, maybe a little chapped. Jon makes a quick note of buying Micheal a chapstick before there is a tongue prodding at his lips. He opens them up, a little annoyed at being in the same position once again. 

But it isn't the same. Micheal’s tongue is definitely not human. It is too long, and not as smooth as it is supposed to be. Thought of the cat's tongue comes to Jon’s mind and he quickly pushes it away. He lets it roam, pressing against it with his own. A hand with too sharp fingers cradles his head careful not to harm him. 

He opens his eyes and sees Micheal observing him. He feels a smile against his lips and the tongue moves a little deeper, carefully balancing on the line of too much. It moves back when he feels the need to finally breathe. He pants, trying to catch his breath.

“I wonder, will you inform the Watcher of our kiss?” 

Jon huffs and turns back. He pushes back against Micheal’s chest to find a better position. “He is already jealous of you.”

“Really?”

Jon pulls one of the hands closer. He doesn’t feel it necessary to answer such an obvious rouse.

“I need to talk to others. To Tim, Sasha, and Martin. Explain the situation.” Jon changes the topic. “With Prentiss coming they must be careful.” He wants to plan it carefully. He feels like his coworkers may realize something is wrong. The only thing keeping Martin from realizing how sudden Jon’s changes are the rose-colored glasses he doesn’t take off no matter what Jon does.

“Of course. But you need this more now.” Micheal is right. This is why Jon decided to lie down. Why he so readily went into its arms. He can feel the state of quiet meditation creeping on him. The state similar to the one he felt in the tunnels. Like he can stay here forever. His lips feel raw after so much kissing and he can still smell Elias cologne on his own clothes. There is also the gentle lull of Micheal’s chest under him and the sound of static he associates with the spiral. His running thoughts feel as tired as he does. A nap won’t kill him.

“Sweet dreams, Archivist.” The chuckle sounds almost fond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually wrote a scene where Jon stays to help Elias with his little problem but then thought better of it. Too much too soon. And I am not saying I'm using my own experience as an asexual person to write but I just may be?


	8. chptr 8

The following day at the Archives starts fairly dull. Tim and Martin take care of the fake statements, Sasha records a file about someone being watched by a creep for almost a year and Jon attempts to find a friendly, normal way of telling his assistants that yes the supernatural is real.

He paces around his office, hoping that his usual way of founding solutions will work. He creates a few scenarios in his head, tries out certain phrases, throws them away as just too…. Spooky. Tim will believe him, probably. He has his own vendetta against the Stranger. Sasha knows something is up since she has been the one to help Gertrude back when all other assistants were dead or being used by the Powers. Martin though… Jon feels a certainty that he will believe him. Just because Jon will be the one to tell him. It makes him even pickier about the words he will use. He owes it to Martin. 

‘According to my knowledge all of your nightmares are real.’ sounds too theatrical.

‘We all have the experiences that we cannot explain. Some of those are just tricks of our minds. But others? Those were caused by unfathomable powers residing just outside of our world.’ He could swear he has heard Georgie stating something like this in her podcast.

‘We must talk about something. I am not human. And soon neither will you, unless you die or gouge out your eyes.’ Not a great conversation starter.

He wishes it would be simpler. With Micheal, he doesn’t have to care what he says or if he acts human enough. It doesn’t require him to be human, not since it found out he is something else. And Elias is torn between delighted and slightly unnerved. But those two are monsters of their own and now he is supposed to talk to humans. 

He wonders how he managed to talk to his co-workers back when he was like them. Was it always so troublesome? He knows it was. He also knows that was why he never cared to spend more time with them. 

Human interaction is just like another skill, you get better at it as you spend more time around other people. Yet the human tendency to like things you are good at kept him from ever seeking out others to hone this particular skill. Books were easier. 

He chides himself for getting off-topic. He needs to get ready for this talk, Prentiss will be here soon. He must make sure they know what they are dealing with. Without the table, Sasha should be fine, but he isn’t going to take any chances. Not any more. 

He realizes that Sasha has finished recording. It feels like a slight ‘ting’ going off in his head. He takes a deep breath. He won’t be doing himself any favors by overthinking this more. 

He leaves his office, but not without running his fingers over the coat hanging next to the door. He catches a whiff of another man's cologne. The musky smell grounds him. He tries not to think about how he is treating it as a lucky charm. He doesn’t want to give the man watching him from his own office any more ammunition. 

He finds Sasha at her desk, looking over some notes she has made while recording. She murmurs to herself while compering the statement to something written on her laptop.

“No, that's not right. This isn’t…”

“Sasha.” Jon tries not to startle her to no avail. “I would like to talk to you and the rest of the… team.”

“Yes, sure Jon.” Her eyes are wide and even though she is trying to look at him she keeps on glancing down. She wants to get back to her work. He can almost see the hooks of the Eye pulling her back to the statement.

“I will gather the others.” He says even though he knows she is no longer listening.

He finds Martin in the kitchen. He is making another tea, the second one since morning. Jon knows he and Tim have decided to take a break from all the filing after a series of sneezing made all of the dust fly up and bring even more sneezing. Tim turned the ventilation system to another level which meant a constant buzzing sound and a good excuse for a break. 

“Jon, is everything all right?” Martin asks when he spots him.

Jon knows he looks worried. He has never been a good actor and a voice at the back of his head reminding him that in a minute or two he is going to have to spill the ineffable truth to his coworkers makes it even harder to act natural. 

“Yes, yes. I would like to talk to you. About something rather, ah, important.” 

“All right. Now?”

“Yes.” He realizes Tim is already waiting with Sasha. “Now would be the best time for it.”

They all gather around Sasha’s desk. Jon stands in front of them, trying to keep himself from nervously playing with the sleeves of his shirt. To think he has chosen today go back to his old style of dressing. A shirt, a jacket, and prim slacks went well with the coat he got from Elias. Yet there aren’t the most comfortable when he is already nervous. He stills himself, pushing his hands against his thighs. 

“There are a few things connected to the Institute we should talk about. Some parts of your job I don't think Elias has included in your contract.” He chooses his words deliberately.

“Some additional responsibilities?” Tim guesses. 

“Yes, you could call it that. I think we should start at the most basic premise. There are some statements in these Archives that are real. The creatures described in them are real.” So it is out. He takes time to look each member of the staff in the eye. “The statements that Tim and Martin are putting on the shelves are hoaxes. I will create a good filing system for the real ones soon and we will be archiving those on the cassette tapes.” 

The silence that falls is only broken by the loud sound of the ventilation system.

“There is also more.” Jon takes a deep breath and smoothly lowers the illusion surrendering him. A low whistle leaves Tim’s mouth and Martin gasps. “There are those that are working against the god you serve. Those that will want to harm you. I will do all that I can to keep you safe. But you should know this so you won’t be taking any unnecessary risks.”

“We serve? What about you?” Tim squares his shoulders and stands up from his relaxed pose. He wants to stand between Jon and the rest of the team. He doesn’t know what to think of this person in front of him. If he is like the circus…

“I am… I and the Eye have a different relationship. I served it once. Now it is more complicated.” He fees the eye on his thigh and the one up above. It opens, enormous and unfathomable. It is hungry, always ready to devour more but when faced with Jon, the one bearing the impossible world it blinks.

Jon knows he should be pleased that Tim feels protective over Martin and Sasha. Nevertheless, it pains him that he is seen as a threat.

“There are more powers than the Eye. There is the Stranger, it concerns everything uncanny. The Lonely, the Web, the Buried. All of them are connected with…”

“Fear.” Martin finishes for him in a soft voice. He looks at Jon with wonder and worry. Worry for Jon.

“Yes. There are different aspects of fear. They have their own Avatars, people, or creatures serving them. The Magnus Institute belongs to the Eye, the Ceaseless Watcher. All workers are also connected to it by proxy. But you especially.”

“The Archives. They are full of fear.” This time it is Sasha who makes the connection. Jon feels proud of them. He wonders how far he would have gotten if he went for help to them back in the world that came before.

“And all of the entities feed on fear. Here we can witness it and record it which makes the patron of the Beholding stronger.”

“Okay. Sure. Say we believe you. Why would anyone want to attack us? Just because we are some office clerks for an ancient power? We are nobodies!” Tim throws his hands up.

He tries to hide how nervous he is. He knows what it means to lose someone to one of the powers. He thinks he couldn't do it again. 

“Soon Jane Prentiss will attack the Archives. She is a living hive. There are many, many worms under her command and if one of them borrows into you and isn’t taken out quick enough you will become one yourself.” They all wince, even Jon. He is used to pain by now, but the scars on his face throb in a pattern that resembles the squirming worms enough to make him want to vomit. “They are all connected, they all are one being. They feel instead of knowing. And the Eye is an antithesis to it. You will be attacked just because you will be in the way.”

“Great. That really wasn’t in the job description.”

“I will talk to Elias about installing fire extinguishers here. If you ever see a silver worm use those to destroy it. You should buy some for your home too. And it would be better if you didn’t leave the Institute after dark. “

“What if we get too caught up with the filing? Should we organize a big sleepover?”

“There is a cot in my office. You can use it.”

“Of course there is.” Tim falls back on the desk he was leaning against. He sits down with a loud ‘thump’. “Do we want to know how do YOU know this?”

“I don’t… Maybe not right now. You can find lots of answers in the statements and maybe you will be more eager to believe them instead of me.”

“What about leaving?” Sasha cuts in. They all turn to her. She raises her chin, ready to stand her ground. “If it is so dangerous why shouldn't we leave? I like my job, but I am not here because I am overtly adventurous. Quite the opposite.”

“I am working on it.”

“On filing our resignations?”

“It is not that simple. You can’t just leave the Eye or the Institute. There is only one quick way that I don’t recommend.”

“What? Let me guess. Gouging my eyes out. Because it is the Eye and all that?” Tim’s tone turns a little hysterical at the end. He even chuckles but when Jon doesn’t answer he abruptly stops. “No, no way.”

“Unfortunately it is the quickest way.” Jon winces. “But I must ask you this: do you really want to leave?” 

Another long silence falls. For all his bravado Tim looks uncomfortable when faced with the possibility of leaving the Institute. Jon knows a part of it is because it is the bond itself keeping them from saying yes. But he remembers how adamant Tim used to be about hating his job. He knows that if they absolutely don’t want it they can at least say it. Neither of them does.

“So what now?” Tim speaks up. 

“You finish up your work with filing the files alphabetically while I create a new, better system for the true statements. And we wait for the attack.”

“Can’t we...? I don’t know. Attack first?”

“We will. But we must wait until she is close enough to the Archives. Here she will be weaker. There is no use chasing her down into her own domain.”

“Cool. Cool.” Tim looks around, unsure of what to say. 

“Come on. Show me how far you two have gotten.” Sasha saves him from saying anything more. She looks between Jon and Martin which prompts Tim to do the same. With a quiet ‘ahh’ he follows after her.

It leaves Jon alone with Martin. Martin who has been staring at him since the illusion has fallen away. Martin who is coming closer. Martin who is standing just in front of Jon, which makes him look up to keep eye contact.

“Do they hurt?”

“What?” Jon is taken back for a second before he recenters himself. He pulls at the end of his sleeve, the one hiding his burn marks. He’s had this awful habit since he was little and trying to hide himself in too big clothing from thrift stores his grandma bought for him. He has worked so hard on stopping it. 

“The scars. They look old. But I know that you can feel pain because of them especially when you aren’t taking care of them.” Martin’s voice gets a little more sure as he goes on.

“No. Well, most of the time they don’t. The warm water helps.”

“Have you been taking care of them, Jon?”

“No.”

He is so surprised by tears coming to Martin’s eyes he actually starts apologizing.

“What? Martin? I’m sorry, Martin? Why are you?”

Martin starts to furiously wipe his eyes with his sweater while laughing over a quiet sob leaving him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just. I wasn’t sure it was you. You just changed in front of us. And now I know. That it is you. And I’m sorry you had to go through this. Getting those scars. And I am glad you have told us.” Jon is sure that Martin will continue his ramblings for the rest of the afternoon if he lets him. 

He finds his concern heartwarming but also strange. It feels weird to be cared for. He cannot help but compare it to Elias and his smooth way of being sure that Jon is some all-powerful being and Micheal’s… Now when he thinks about it the being called Micheal has been showing a lot of care for his well-being. 

“Slow down Martin. I am also… glad that I’ve told you. It feels… good to be able to tell you things.” Smooth Simms he chides himself. But it has the desired effect, Martin looks at him and even tries to smile. “There is a lot more I need to tell you but I know you probably need time to digest all of this already.” Jon makes a vague gesture with his hand. The one burnt by the fire, the one he cannot control and which channels all of his fidgetings.

“Yes, it is a lot. But some part of me knew, you know? That things were different. Especially for the last few days.”

This makes Jon startle. Has he been too late? Has Jane Prentiss already contacted Martin? 

“Has she made contact? Martin, has Jane Prentiss come to your apartment?”

“What? No.” Martin’s brow furrow. “I mean I knew something was up with you. With the change of style. Even though I thought maybe you and Elias have started to… Today you came in…” Martin blushes.

His face is so red Jon can feel the heat of it on his own.

“You aren’t surprised by cosmic horrors because you thought I was sleeping with our boss.” Jon just stands there. He tries to process this line of thinking, he really does. He can almost hear Tim chuckling. Come to think of it he knows that both Tim and Sasha, although reluctantly, are listening to their conversation. And Tim is giggling.

“When you put it like this it does sound stupid.” Martin rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just you’ve changed. Not just your wardrobe. And you don't have to tell me what happened exactly. But just know I’m here. If you want to talk that is. Or just, I am here for you.”

“Thank you, Martin.” Jon weighs his options. “To be exact, me and Elias haven’t started anything. Not yet I suppose.” And this makes Martin's face fall so quickly that Jon actually moves forward and catches his hand in both of his. “But it is an open thing. Not only with Elias. So if you want to…”

Talking to humans is so difficult. He is sure what Elias wants, mostly sure what Micheal wants. But Martin who looks at him with an almost shell-shocked expression is a mystery.

“There is someone other than Elias?” He sounds unsure, but also genuinely curious.

“Yes, well. It calls itself Micheal. I think you will meet it sooner or later. But if you want I can introduce you today. Even if you don’t fancy trying something more than being friendly acquaintances with me.”

Martin tries to analyze his options. He really tries. But the heat of Jon’s hands holding his, the slightly rough skin of one of his hands that he is only now noticing is badly scarred; it all makes it very hard to think. He has fancied Jon for a long time. Even before coming to the Archives. He wants to say yes. But the amount of information? And Elias? 

How can he compete with someone who not only knows what he is doing but also makes way more money? Someone who can give Jon his coat just like that. And that other being. Not even a person but a being. 

“You can decide later. I’m sorry. I just threw everything your way at once.” Jon squeezes his hand reassuringly before letting go. 

“I would like to meet Micheal.” Martin says before he can talk himself out of it. “But maybe you are right. I would need some time to think about this. All of this.”

Jon smiles at him. It is such a pretty smile, no matter the scars and a slightly grey hew of his skin. His eyes crinkle and his brow smoothes out. Martin could kiss him right there and then. But he keeps himself in check. He has never been in this kind of relationship. He has to think this through. Even though all he wants is to hug this man, kiss all of his scars, and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for this.” He doesn’t add that he feels like he should be the one thanking instead. 

“Yes. Then I will call on Micheal and arrange the meeting between you two.” Jon nods like he is adding it to his mental schedule.”First I need to talk to Elias about the fire extinguishers.”

Which doesn’t sound like an excuse at all. Jon pats Martin’s arm before leaving the Archives swiftly.

* * *

“I will look into this.” Elias informs him. “Although I do not think that Jane Prentiss will be much of a threat to you.”

Jon leans back in his chair. He can feel the way Elia’s gaze feels over his skin. Both the eyes of the man in front of him and the one looking from the portrait on the wall track his movement. 

“Letting her into my Archives will be severe enough.”

He can already feel the worms gathering around the walls of the underground parts of the Institute. They eat the soil, the concrete, and soon they will be inside. There are so many of them. The withering mass joined by one mind which only wants to devour his sanctuary.

“Your Archives, Jon?”

“Yes. While I do not expect you to make it official, the Archives belong to me. After all, you yourself have given me the title of the Archive.”

Elias smiles one of those self-satisfied smiles. Even without looking into his mind, Jon knows how much satisfaction it gives him to know that he has been the one to make Jon, to crown him, and name him.

“Making you the official owner of the Archives would be rather difficult in current times. It seems like you will have to make do with the title of the Head Archivist.”

Jon wonders about sharing his plans concerning Sasha. But he knows what Elias fancies in him the most: being truly unpredictable. No use taking away this advantage.

“It is more than enough. I would also ask you to give Gertrude Robinson a proper burial. Once we gain access to her body of course.” 

“I never knew you were this sentimental.”

“It is not about sentimentality. Her skin is going to play a huge role in the Stranger’s ritual. Making sure they do not get her too soon is important.” Jon returns archly.

“Ah, the Unknowing.”

“Yes, I know it won’t work.” Jon rolls his eyes. Just for a second Elias thinks he got one over him, but at the scowl Jon sends his way, he tries to play it off. “But as you also know Tim has a grudge against the circus. He wants revenge.”

“And you are willing to take it for him?”

If Jon was a different man he would laugh at this. Instead, he only shakes his head. 

“That would defy its purpose. No, he needs to take care of it himself.”

“Ah. This is the part you’ve asked me to help you with before. Now, Jon. To whom do you think Mr. Stoker should belong to?”

Jon knows the answer. It fills him just like the knowledge about Sasha being the best candidate for the Head Archivist does. He can feel the heat on his arm, he can still remember the pain. 

“The Flame.” His voice is strong, backed by static giving it an echo. 

Elias looks delighted. He leans back, thinking about the best course of action. 

“Yes, I believe I can see that. He would need a little bit of preparation to be ready to take on the Stranger without being killed or burning himself too badly.”

“The spark left by Agnes Montigue is still here. And her bond to the Archives and Gertrude can be enough.”

Elias nods along. He closes his real eyes to focus on the insides of his Institute. He is looking for a certain thing, a certain book. One that used to belong to the Leitner library.

“I have something he could start with.”

“The Fire of the Past.” Jon nods. He has been following Elias in his thoughts. The fond look he gets makes him blush.

“Yes. It is powerful enough to heat anyone reading it but not too strong. It shouldn't kill or maim Mr. Stroker. But I would recommend warning him against reading it before going to bed.”

“My assistants know how dangerous the Leitners can be.”

“How are you going to convince him to read it then?”

“I will tell him the truth. Making sure that others are safe will be enough to convince him.”

This doesn't sound like much of a scheme to Elias but he has agreed to help Jon. He would prefer to play it differently, to maybe trick Tim into reading the book and then play the role of a concerned friend to check on his progress. Leave some bread crumbs for him, guide him without showing his cards too soon. It was how he wanted to make Jon into the Archivist. He decides to find his fun in other places.

“Send the book to my office. I will talk to him today”

“What about others? I assume you have also planned something for them.”

“Yes. For now, I will make sure Sasha is reading statements.” Elias raises one eyebrow which is more of a trick than dooming the world would ever be. “Martin should get some time to think this whole situation through.”

“Whole situation? Including your proposal.”

“Yes. Including that. Unless you oppose to being part of this.” Jon is pretty convinced Elias won’t back down. He isn’t disappointed.

“I do not find it ideal, but I must say Martin is a much better companion than that pest.”

“I would prefer if you kept yourself from calling Micheal names.” Elias scoffs but gives his version of a shrug. 

The suit makes it look elegant. Jon is sure that even in his best days he wouldn't be able to pull it off. He wishes for his sweaters and jeans.

“I will try to.” The ‘no promises’ goes unsaid but not unheard. “I hope you find my coat comfortable. It does look good on you.”

“Yes, it does. I can give it back…”

“Nonsense.” Elias raises his hand to stop Jon from any more useless apologies. They both know that he is pleased by the concept of a visible mark on his Archivist. The eye on his thigh is not enough. “You should keep it.”

It is this simple. 

“Fine. Just don’t expect me to always wear fitting shirts underneath.”

“I would never. There is a certain charm to your new-found love of sweaters. I wouldn't want to keep you from wearing them. “

Jon has a feeling he is being made fun of. The indulgent smile on Elias’s lips doesn’t help him with shaking off this feeling.

“Of course you wouldn't.”

“Recently I have seen a few I think would look just lovely on you. I think they should arrive in a day or two.”

Jon wets his lips taken aback.

“Did you buy me sweaters?”

“I can’t…”

“Elias,  **did you buy me sweaters** ?”

“Yes.”

Jon sighs. For a better effect, he even sighs again.

“Why?”

“The one you got on yesterday has been destroyed by the Stranger. It was in the Institute’s storage which means those were work expenses.”

“So it has nothing to do with how much you like seeing me wrapped in your gifts.” Jon starts blushing somewhere in the middle of the sentence. He should have thought before pulling it from Elias’s mind. “Fine. I won’t say no to sweaters.”

“And socks.”

“Socks? Why socks?”

“They are a perfect present between two adults.”

Which Jon decides is a fair point. But it doesn’t make the whole situation less ridiculous.

“You bought them after I left yesterday?” A sudden thought comes to him. “Is this some kind of playback for yesterday?”

“Do you think I would be so… petty?”

“Yes.”

“Jon. This is just a gift.”

“Sure. Just remember to send those extinguishers to the Archives.” 

* * *

Back in his office, Jon calls upon the Spiral. It is always with him, its gentle pulse keeping him warm and grounded. The door appears without a hitch. The yellow paint seems less harsh than it used to be. Jon knocks on them gently and steps back. He doesn’t have to wait long for an answering knock. He decides to entertain Micheal a little and calls out.

“Come in.”

The door cracks open. The being called Micheal steps in, grinning with too many teeth.

“What can I do for you dear Archivist?”

“My team wants to meet you. No, that’s too much. I want you to meet them, but first Martin wants to meet you. He is deciding whatever he wants to pursue a relationship with me.”

“Ah.” The being comes closer and reaches out to touch Jon’s face. Its sharp fingers run gently over his marked cheek. “So much responsibility. I did not know you trust me so much.”

“I trust you to be yourself. And I hope Martin will accept what you are. What we are. There is no use lying to him about it.”

“Are you asking me to be truthful? We both know that is not what I am.”

Jon turns into the hand holding his face. He takes special care not to be nicked by the sharp fingers.

“I am asking you to be yourself. Nothing more.” He doesn’t want to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to admit that he will be lying to Martin even when he admits his monstrosity. A lie by omission is still a lie. Micheal may be the only one to understand it and not judge like Elias surely does. “My past is not something I am willing to share. I want him to know what I am now.”

“A mystery.” Micheal chuckles. “A monster in sheep clothing.” One of the fingers runs too harshly over his skin and leaves a red mark behind. It stings but not as much as a stray thought that comes to Jon. For a second he wonders if this Micheal knows more than he is letting on. Leave it to the embodiment of madness to be able to share knowledge between different realms. 

“Will you do it? Just talk to him.” The wound on his cheek heals in seconds. The redness is the only mark left behind by Michael's supposed clumsiness.

“Hmm, yes. I would like that. Meeting your assistants is going to be quite entertaining.”

“Just remember they are under my protection. No throwing them in your tunnels for a quick chase.”

“Of course. I would never.” Jon stares at it. Micheal does its best attempt at looking innocent, but its giggles betray it. “I will remember that they belong to you.”

“Good. Now, just wait here. I will call Martin.”

“Of course.”

Jon steps around the tall being and leaves his office. He knows that Martin is working with Sasha and Tim, knows they have been talking about what he has told them. He also knows that Tim wants to talk so badly about Martin’s relationship with him. 

It burns him from the inside not to share his thoughts. He thinks that it is a bad idea. Jon may be handsome in the weird librarian way, and now with the scars and almost confident look he may look even hot. 

And Tim gets it, he also has a soft spot for smaller, slight partners and the long hair give him additional points but the whole monster thing? And Elias? 

He feels the anger that has been seeming under his skin since his brother has disappeared. It isn’t aimed at Jon, not exactly. It is aimed at everything that doesn’t belong to this world. How dare they come here and impose their rules? Until now the anger has been his constant, but a quiet companion. It made him come to work after a restless night. It accompanied him when he flirted, just to spite those powers. He is alive and he will take everything that life has to offer. He got into more than one fistfight because he couldn't keep that heat at bay. It infuriated him when someone said anything unsavory to any of his companions. It was a very good excuse to let loose, to stop being nice and snarky and just let others feel the storm in him. Now this anger has a purpose. 

He wonders about their boss. He doesn’t trust this new Jon. He looks way less stuck-up than the one he knows. He used to be glad for the sudden change. Now he isn’t so sure. The guy seems to show some kind of care for them, but it might just be a trap. It is better to err on the side of caution.

Tim keeps opening his mouth to say something but Sasha stares him down. Time and time again. That woman can make him quiver by just looking at him with so much disappointment he feels like being scolded back in middle school. Martin seems to notice each of the exchanges between them, at least judging by the thankful looks he sends Sasha’s way. 

When Jon enters they all stop pretending to be working. Only a few files have actually been put in their right places. It isn’t that hard to find the letter ‘P’. Jon has to remind himself why he is here so he doesn’t start scolding them. 

“Jon. You are bleeding.” This throws him completely off the loop. He raises his hand to his cheek and feels the wetness gathered under the cut Micheal has made 

“I… Yes. Martin if you have a minute I would like to talk to you in my office.” The sting is soothed by the spiral on his hand. He can almost feel the judgmental look Tim is throwing his way. He supposes he deserved it.

“Sure.” Martin leaves the statement he has been holding for the last fifteen minutes of talking with the rest of the team. He has decided to face whatever Jon has chosen as his other partner. He wants to know.

“Tim there is a book that will be delivered here in fifteen minutes. You can take it. Just be sure not to read it before going to sleep.”

“And why the hell should I read that book?”

“It is a Leitner. It will give you a starting point to get ready for oncoming difficulties.”

“A Leitner? You want me to read a Leitner. Again why the hell would I do that?”

Jon wants to tell him the truth. He really does. But that would lead to so many more questions.

“It can give you the power of blowing up things.”

“Huh?” That stops Tim for a good while. Martin stands next to Jon, scanning his face for further injuries. He finds none and once again wonders what he has gotten himself into.

“Just remember not to read it before sleeping. It can act like a cigarette not put out carefully.”

“Everything goes up in flames.” Tim murmurs, looking much more on board than he was a second ago. “All right, boss.”

It sounds almost like the Tim from the world that came before. The Tim that no longer trusted Jon. He wants to rebuild the trust between them. He hopes that giving Tim the Circus will be enough.

Jon nods at Sasha and leaves the room. Martin tails after him without saying anything. He is both unnerved by the prospect of Tim blowing up things with his mind and the meeting he will be a part of. Just in a minute, he will meet a true monster. Or at least a being. Something not human, but still sentient. He is scared. But each time he looks at Jon he feels like it will be worth it.

Micheal awaits them next to Jon’s desk. It has been carving small spirals into the wood. Just another way to stake its claim. When they enter it looks at Jon with another one of their smiles. The blood looks so good on the Archivist. The redness makes his eyes even more beautiful. It wants to know how it tastes. If the power humming under Jon’s skin is also in his blood. It wonders if it would feel like electricity on its tongue. 

The man that comes after Jon looks so unassuming that Micheal has to keep himself from laughing. Such uncertainty from someone who has caught the attention of the most powerful being that can be. The red curls look almost as good as the redness on Jon’s cheeks. Micheal is taller than him, it is taller than most human-shaped beings. But Martin doesn’t have to look up to catch its gaze and he doesn’t back down when it comes closer. 

They both observe each other. Martin takes in the dissonance between a tall man standing before him and a being hiding underneath. He can almost see the weird shape it takes. The too-long fingers and hair that defy gravity. He can see a smug smile and the rows of teeth hiding behind it. He is scared but it doesn’t stop him from coming closer.

“Hello. I’m Martin.”

Micheal laughs delighted. It looks at this weird human and cannot help itself from giving another chuckle.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“And can I know your name? It would be rude if I had to keep on calling you Mr. Monster.”

“Rude? No, I don’t think it would be. If you want to call me something else you can also call me Micheal.”

“Micheal. It is nice to meet you.”

The being laughs. “You are a good liar. But you can’t lie to me.”

“Huh?” Martin turns to Jon, embarrassed at being called out on his quivering hands.

“Michael is an embodiment of the Spiral. It is a fear of madness. It means it is very good at lying and deception.”

“Oh. So that’s how you kept us from seeing this.” Martin looks Jon up and down, clearly meaning his scars.

“You can say that.”

“What does that mean?”

This time Jon is the one taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You keep on saying things like that, leaving us to interpret them the way we want. But I want an answer, Jon. If you want me to be… a part of this.” Martin looks back at Micheal suddenly unsure.

He doesn’t know if the monster has agreed to all this. Maybe he is overstepping here.

“Yes, you are right.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I have bound the Spiral to me. Its power is my own to a certain extent.” He scowls before Martin can butt in. “I don’t know how far it goes. I have only seen it work in small ways. The illusion or keeping me warm. Also, the corridors that let me travel from one place to another.” 

“All right. This still sounds like a lot.” Martin nods, trying to sound like he knows what he is talking about. A giggle that shakes Micheal’s frame doesn’t help. Martin wants to smack the being on the arm for betraying his act. “So wait. Does that mean that Micheal belongs to you? If it is the ‘embodiment’ of the Spiral…”

“Hmm, yes I believe I do. Dear Archivist does like to remind me of it.” The being nods. 

“Okay. Sure.” 

“Are you all right Martin?” Jon steps closer. 

“Currently? I am a little overwhelmed.”

“You are still standing. This is more than I could say about most that meet me.” Micheal praises.

“Thank you. I think.”

“If you want to go, to leave you can do it at any time,” Jon assures him.

“I know that.” Martin shakes his head. “I know. I can see, you know. I can see how much you want to make sure we are all right. I know you will let me go and probably never talk about this ever again. The problem is…” Martin steps closer to Micheal, while still talking to Jon. “I want to stay. I want to be a part of this. But I need to get used to this.”

Jon smiles so hard his cheeks hurt. He wants to hug Martin, to kiss him, to thank him. The human part of him reminds him that would be unseemly.

“Of course. I understand.”

Martin raises his hand and slowly moves it to touch Micheal. He knows he is in front of a predator and even if he could take on a human that Micheal is acting as he could never stand against the monster hiding underneath. He touches the long coat letting his fingers feel the fabric. Micheal follows his every move, smiling but keeping still. It wants to laugh but that could dislodge the human’s touch. 

“It is strange. I can see you in two different ways. But I also see…” Martin stops with his hand on Micheal’s chest. His fingers touch the place where a heart should be. “No, I can feel it. Like a line. It…” He turns to Jon with a furrowed brow.

Jon can feel it. The thing Martin is describing but also the scritle-scrattle of spider legs running over the drawers of his office. There is no web surrendering Martin right now, but Jon knows that a spider is hiding in his pocket. Martin doesn’t know about it but if he did he wouldn't care. He has always liked spiders.

“Like I said I have bound the Spiral to me.” He points out. 

“Yes.” Martin sounds unsure. He presses his hand against Micheal’s chest and finds no heartbeat. He shouldn't be surprised but it still makes him wearier than the long, sharp fingers ever did. Micheal chooses this moment to warp its flesh to catch Martin’s hand into itself. “What?” 

Martin jumps back like he has been burned. “What was that?”

Micheal can no longer keep itself from laughing. Its frame shooks with each wave of giggles.

“Micheal!” Jon exclaims. “That was unnecessary.” He frowns at him slightly irritated.

“Oh, but it was fun.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Martin buts in. He looks at his hand, expecting it to be changed in some way after coming in contact with a monster. It looks the same, feels the same. He decides it must be okay.

“You should have seen the look on your faces.” Micheal lets out another giggle. 

“Are you all right?” Jon comes closer, pointedly ignoring the laughing being.

“Yes, yes I am.” Martin cannot help but smile at the attention he is getting.

This is his biggest secret. In the end, he would be willing to do almost everything for Jon. There is that small part of him that is delighted by the mere fact he got to meet Micheal first, before Sasha and Tim. He is also fascinated by it, even though he feels he will need some time to get used to the many voices he can hear when it laughs. And to its sense of humor. 

“Do you like tea?” He speaks over Jon’s shoulder. The being tilts its head to one side. Its hair does not fall as it should. 

“I don’t know.” It sounds amused. 

“Well, I have a lot of brands you could try and decide.”

It grins. “Good.”

Martin looks back at Jon. At this weird, scarred Jon that keeps playing with his sleeves to hide his nerves. Martin is sure that before Jon didn’t use to do this. It makes him look less pristine, less pretentious. He would never say it to his face of course. But behind all of the changes, he knows it is still Jon. The way he looks at them, at his assistants is more tender and he is less prickly about things but it is still Jon. Martin wants to ask so badly what has happened to him. Instead, he decides to take a leap of fate.

“Then I think we could start this Friday. I have a kettle perfect to make tea for three.”

It is not a yes to being an active partner in this weird relationship. But Martin feels like they should start somewhere. Sitting down and drinking tea seems like a perfect idea.

“Hmm. I would like that.” Micheal answers with its too large smile.

“And you Jon?”

“Me? Of course. I would love to.”

It seems to be the end of this little meeting, but before he goes back to work Martin takes out a handkerchief and turns to Jon. 

“I don’t think you should go around the Archives with blood on you. Can I?”

“If you want to.” Jon agrees somewhat reluctantly.

Micheal observes them with keen interest. The gentle way Martin handles the cut, wiping away the blood. The human is very careful like he doesn’t want to add to Jon’s suffering. Micheal decides it likes it, it likes this human. He will be a good addition to those protecting the Archivist while he runs off to face another Power.

“I did what I could. I hope it is enough.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You don’t even have a mirror.” Martin scoffs quietly. It doesn’t hide a gentle blush on his cheeks. “Okay, I will go back to work now. See on Friday, Micheal.”

“Can’t wait.”

Once Martin is gone Jon looks at the being with a scowl.

“Could you try not to absorb any body parts of my assistants? Even as a joke.”

“If you insist.”

Jon folds his arms, tapping his fingers up and down the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t wait for more useless promises. He has a filing system to plan. 

“Just be careful during your hunt for Helen.” He tells it.

“Ah, shouldn't it be forbidden, for you to spoil the ending of my chase?”

“I know nothing of such rules. But I do know what happened the last time you tried to kill me after devouring her.”

The being glimmers like a mirage. The twist of the Spiral rattled by the possibility of failure.

“I do not think I will want to kill you, dear Archivist.”

“I hope you won’t. But just in case, do not torture her. Just take what you came for.”

Micheal nods, appreciating the off-handed care the Archivist is showing it. It leaves him to his work, wondering if it will ever want to stop belonging to such a wonderful being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are back on the plot train. to think this was supposed to be a quick fanfick about a concept I liked. now we have Martin wreaking havoc in our poly dynamic. he hold the only brain cell when it comes to emotional intelligence so i wish him luck. and when Peter finally comes in i feel he is going to laugh his ass of when he sees how much Elias is wrapped around Jon's pinky. Sorry, i kind of liked Peter. He should have stayed on his boat though. I can get behind finding beauty in lonesome travel, not giving people depression. There is enough of that without scary monsters.


	9. chptr 9

The rest of the week passes smoothly. Jon concentrates on creating sections for different fears and steadily ignores Tim’s suspicious looks. Sasha is busy with more statements he has been sending her way and Martin is out investigating. Jon keeps half of his mind on the redhead, just to make sure nothing bad happens to him. 

To his delight, Martin looks up more than once and smiles at the sky. It wouldn't normally be possible, but the scritch-scratch of spider legs is enough of an explanation. Soon the Spider will take it on itself to keep him safe.

“Why are you smiling at the wall?” Tim brings him out of his reverie.

Friday afternoon has always been a tense time. It is so close to the weekend that no one wants to start any new projects. Jon’s attitude never let him go easy on his assistants which often meant they acted very busy whenever he got close. Nowadays they are actually too engrossed in the fears to need to pretend.

“It’s nothing.”

“Right.” The wary look gets stronger. 

Jon feels the itching in his skin, the pull where the scars haven’t healed properly. He  ** knows  ** that Tim has been reading the book almost religiously. Each morning he stares at one of the pages. He is constantly hot and feels the rage wanting to come out whenever even the smallest inconvenience happens. 

Right now he stares at Jon but his mind is proposing several ways of pushing him against the wall to get the information out of him or just hitting him to see if he still bleeds. 

The last thought shakes Tim. He doesn’t want to beat his annoying boss. Even if he is weirder than usual. This isn’t him. He takes a deep breath, ready to change the subject, but Jon is quicker.

“I was making sure that Martin is alright. And he has noticed me. It just…”

“Okay, really you don’t have to explain. You were just lovey-dovey with him through your magical powers. I get it.” It comes as a welcome surprise. Both knowing that Martin is fine and the fact that Jon cares. “I’ve come here to ask you something other than that. It’s about the book.”

“You have finished it.”

“I have… Can you at least let me tell you what I want to tell? Or are you just going to take it out of me?” The irritation is real this time. It warms his throat lovingly, making him ready to spit curses and insults. 

Jon has always had this annoying tendency to finish others' sentences when he thought he could get to the point quicker. It could be amusing when stopped Martin from blabbering to an early grave but now Tim wants to say his thoughts out loud. 

“Yes, of course.”

“So. Yes. You said something about blowing things up. All I’ve noticed is that I get angry. So god damn angry all the time. And that I am hot. Not that I wasn’t before.” He smirks, but it has an edge to it. The sharpness of it could cut skin. “But now I can go out without a jacket and still feel A-okay. But there is no blowing up powers. So what’s about that?”

“This change is a process. You have made incredible progress in a couple of days. I take it you have been waking up earlier to read it?”

Tim shots him an annoyed look. “You are asking like you don’t know. Yes, I have been waking up earlier. And I am not tired even though it means I’ve been having like four hours of sleep.” 

Jon nods. He can see himself in Tim, the him from the start of his change.

“Let’s sit down. I can explain it better… without you hovering over me.”

Tim hasn’t even noticed getting closer. His boss’s slight posture has made it so easy to tower over him. He knows he doesn’t want to harm Jon. But his body has been acting out of its volition. 

A part of him whispers about sensing another predator in a room and aching to attack first.

“Right.” They sit on different sides of Jon's desk. Tim tries to find a comfortable position, one that helps him forget about the beads of sweat falling down his back. The Archives has never been this warm. “So am I turning into a monster like you? Is this what this whole thing is about?”

“Yes and no.”

“Awesome.”

“Just hear me out. The book has power, but it all comes down to choice. It is your choice whatever you want to use it or how you want to use it. And once we are done fighting is done you can go back to being normal.” Lies. There is no normality for them. Not after the Institute. “It does change you, but without it, you won't be able to face the Stranger. Not if you want to come back alive.”

There is a tense silence before Tim voices a thought he hasn’ been able to say even to himself. He blames it on the stranger powers of the monster in front of himself. He doesn’t want to admit that he may be doing it because he is scared and Jon has been weirdly supportive for the last few days. 

“What if I don’t? What if I want to make it my last stand?”

“Do you?’

And that’s a problem. He doesn’t know. 

Before coming to the Institute he may have thought about it. He loves his brother. And taking out a monster is a very good way of going out. But now he has that on-off thing with Sasha, he knows which tea to buy Martin for Christmas and even remembers that Elias loves cake too much. And he knows that this prickly prick in front of him has a soft side for them all. He sighs.

“No, I don’t think so.” His laugh is too loud. It rings unpleasantly in his ears. “So what? I reread the book to be more in tune with it or something? Do I an additional arm or a flaming head?”

“The changes won't be this drastic." Jon hides his uncertainty behind a dry tone. "Rereading it would be perfect for now. I look for something else connected to the Flame that you can safely read.”

“And when does the blowing up things start?”

“Hm. You will know. And I would appreciate it if you tried it out outside of the Archives.”

“Yeah, a library isn’t the best place to play with fire. But the fact I will know? That such a cryptic way of saying you don’t know that you could call it… spooky.”

“Don’t. Just don’t Tim.” Jon cannot help himself. He smiles. It is a pretty smile, one reserved for those close to him.

It is almost weird that it makes Tim close off again.

“I also wanted to talk to you about the other thing. Sasha is too deep in research and Martin has a crush so strong he would kill for you. But I don’t. And I want to know: just who the hell are you?”

Ah, the protectiveness shows up again. Jon should have expected this. He knows that if he has wanted to know that this question was coming he would have. He has willingly blindsided himself.

“I am Jonathan Simms. I am the Archivist of the Magnus Institute.” Seeing that Tim wants to cut in he raises his hand. The scar left by Micheal from before almost shines on his skin. It doesn't want to stay in place so it pulses. It catches Tim’s eyes. “I have been branded by all of the powers and now I carry a part of each of them in me.”

“Sure, but where is our Jon? The uptight academic who scolds Martin for everything?”

“I don’t… Imagine going through an unfamiliar town. You chose a wrong turn and decide to go back. You take a few steps back and you are where you have started. Only you did it not only in space but also in time.”

“What?”

“This is the best I can give you, aside from ‘I don’t know.’. I am still your Jon.”

“Only you have taken a few steps ahead and met some powers and now they are a part of you.”

“Yes.”

Tim shakes his head. “Right. How could I not know this.”

“I am telling you this because I am going to need you to trust me.” Jon answers the scowl sent his way with one of his own. “I know it won’t be easy, but threats are coming our way and we are going to need to face them together. And if you doubt me I won’t be able to ensure your safety.”

“That’s why I have a book. Just make sure Martin and Sasha are safe.”

“I will. But I am not going to just leave you to the wolves. I know I ask for a lot, but I need you to trust me. Please.”

Tim huffs but thinks about it. He wants to keep vigil, as his co-workers have just accepted this Jon. But a part of him wants to trust him. He is offering the thing Tim wants the most. The vision of destruction sings to him sweetly. He is also trying to protect them.

“Fine. Just don’t wear it out. I don’t give my trust easily.”

“Thank you.”

Tim decides their conversation is over. He has had enough of this kicked-puppy look Jon has been sending his way. He gets up, stretches, and feels some of his bones clicking into place.

“Right, boss. I will get back to segregation. I think you do hate me since you gave me this job.”

“There will be some fieldwork for you next week. There is a statement about a fire in the harbor."

“Sure.” Tim snorts and leaves Jon’s office.

The Archivist sighs. He is glad that the whole conversation is over. It has taken less than he thought it would to convince Tim. A part of him prays that he won’t ever want to leave the Flame. It won’t be easy. And finding out that Jon has lied to his face would destroy all of the progress. 

‘ _ Better safe and angry than dead and friendly. _ ’ he swears that though sounds just like Tim from before.

He runs his hand against the soft wool of his sweater. It is one of the few he got from Elias. It is very expensive and intentionally too big for him. He  ** knows  ** that. He also finds comfort in hiding his scars underneath it instead of always relying on illusions. He still employs the spiral when he leaves his flat or the Institute but going around his personal temple and feeling he doesn't have to hide is freeing. 

He pulls at the end of his sleeve, the one hiding his spiral scar underneath. Micheal hasn’t been back since it went after Helen. Jon knows it is alright, just digesting its last meal. He feels alone in his flat, without the strange presence of the other avatar. He could go after it into the corridors, but he understands it needs time. 

Instead, he has spent the last few evenings in the Institute taking care of the statements. Sasha has been at his side, watching over his shoulder and offering her own propositions. Given a chance she has taken to the Eye so well that in another life he would feel envious. Now he feels like an older colleague showing her the ropes. But also like he is offering her on an altar. 

He doesn’t want to follow this thought. The picture at the back of his mind, of him, gently pressing the knife into the flesh of his assistants to mark them as his, to bind them to him - it frightens him. zhe can see the redness of the blood seeping out of the wound, running down Tim's throat. He can smell the iron in the air, playing well against Sasha's shampoo. And Martin's trusting eyes as he lays down on a swab of stone in the middle of the Panopticon, ready to die as a human and wake up as something else. Something belonging to Jon. The jumper wouldn't warm him in the brisk corridors underneath the Institute but he would no longer need them. Jon would make sure he would never go cold again.

It isn’t his thought but just one of the things he knows. A possibility he doesn’t know if he wants to become true. 

* * *

A gentle knock on the door. 

“Come in.” 

It’s Martin. Thank goodness he is here because Jon could almost feel a spiral of a different kind, one of doubt and sadness, pulling him in.

“Hi. I just came back. And I thought you would like to know I have… well there were worms. White, silver worms. I stepped on one of them. And I think there was a spider in my pocket? It lept at one of the other worms. It killed it. At least it looked like it did.” 

Jon doesn’t swear, his grandmother has raised him better than this. But he quickly stands up and almost runs to the redhead. With brow pinched with worry pulls Martin towards his cot. He looks terrible. His cheeks are flushed with exhaustion but the rest of his face is pale as snow. He is trying to look at Jon but his eyes are also scanning the room looking for a next threat. The shirt underneath his sweater is wet with sweat. his knees are week so he keeps his posture as rigid as he can so he won't fall. 

The redhead keeps on rambling for the whole time, talking about a stranger waiting for him at the scene, about the meat shop being open even though no one should be there.

“I thought I would have to break-in, but the doors were wide open. And it was there. I don’t know if it was human. It moved… Jon, it moved like a, like a wave. But it wasn’t that. There were worms all over it and they were moving. I panicked and run. They didn't get me. But they jumped so far? Worms aren’t supposed to jump so far.”

Jon shushes him. They sit down on the cot, their knees brushing. Jon takes his hands into his. 

“Deep breaths, Martin. You are safe. We all are. Have you talked to others?”

“No… I passed Tim on my way here, but he was too caught up in his head to notice me. And Sasha was working so I came to you. I am sorry if you were working. I can go.”

“No. Stay. We will need to warn them, that’s all.” Jon squeezes his hands. They are bigger than Jon’s, look stronger too. 

They are trembling so much Jon gently pulls them towards his own chest. Martin goes willingly, seeking comfort after seeing something that is not supposed to exist. 

“I am sorry Martin. I was watching over you, but Tim came by and we needed to talk.”

“You did? Good! Finally to be honest. No, no I just…”

“Shh. I shouldn't have let you out of my sight. Not yet. “ Martin takes his hands away only to circle them around Jon and hug him. His frame is still trembling and Jon curses himself. “We are alright Martin. Breath with me.”

The school chancellor used to ask him to do the same thing after his parents had died. He thought it was annoying. Now he takes a deep breath in, waits until he feels Martin do the same, and lets it out. Martin follows suit. They breathe like this for a few minutes and gradually the shaking stops. Martin pulls back, the embarrassment making his whole face red. It looks so much better than before. Jon looks down at him, gently runs his hand through his curls.

“Did you run back to the Institute?”

“No, I called an Uber. It was close to me so I just hopped in. This nice lady asked me if I was alright. I told her that the meat made me ill.” Martin laughs but it comes out choked. 

Jon gently scratches the back of his head. 

“I’m glad you are back. You shouldn't go back to your flat, it’s not safe. Would you like to sleep at my place for a few nights?” 

Martin blushes even harder. He is both scared and excited. To be able to spend more time with Jon sounds divine even if it is caused by some weird power wanting to play with their lives. He remembers he is supposed to answer.

“That would be good. Amazing. Thank you.”

Jon hums. His thoughts are running a few miles an hour. 

He is scanning the location Martin has gone to to find the hive that has attacked him. There is nothing there but a trail of worms. It was one of Jane Prentiss’s, the worms look the same as they did in the world before. Oh, how he hates them. He checks on Martin’s flat and finds it more or less safe. 

“We can drop by your flat to get your things. We won’t be able to stay there long though. It would be better if we left right now.”

“So no Friday tea?” Martin sounds morose. 

“What…?” It takes a second for Jon to come back enough to catch the meaning. “Oh, if Micheal shows up we can drink it at my flat. I have some tea. Or you can take your tea with you.”

Martin perks up a little. He is a little embarrassed at his own dependence on tea as a comfort object. It calms him and is the one stable thing in his life he would find hard to give up on. Even for Jon.

“I would like that. Can we stay like this for a minute?”

“Of course.”

Jon sits back on the cot so his back is pressed against the wall. Martin ends up pressed to his chest. Even though Jon is physically smaller than him they find a comfortable position. Martin wants to curl up around him and keep them both safe. Instead, he lets himself be lulled by a gentle hand in his hair. Jon is a little boney underneath him, but his clothes make up for the bones pressing against his cheek. They are soft and make a great pillow. The smell of strawberries mixed with washing detergent calms him. Jon is real and human enough. He is there.

“What did you talk about with Tim?” He asks out of pure curiosity.

“About the book I gave him.”

“The Leitner?”

“Yes. Tim has already finished it. He is making quick progress.”

“Oh. And is he alright? I mean the Leitners can be pretty harsh on you.”

“He is… fine. It affects him, but with the things, after us, he will need it.”

Martin sighs happily and feels as a gentle laugh shakes Jon’s frame.

“Hm?”

“Nothing really. You resemble the Admiral. Georgie’s cat.”

“Georgie as the Georgie from What the Ghost?”

“Yes. Well, we used to date back in college. We are still friends. Or at least we are friendly. Her cat is an amazing specimen. He loves belly rubs.”

Martin also chuckles. 

“Are you going to give me one?”

“Maybe later, back at my flat.”

They both laugh and share a smile. 

“You dated a host of a paranormal show?”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes and believe me it used to be brought up too many times. Her friends just loved to pick on me for that.”

“I can see why.”

At Jon’s offended face Martin smiles even harder. “I can’t exactly imagine you in college.”

“Well, I used to play in a band.”

“You did? Do you have any recordings?”

“No… I think I don’t. But Georgie probably has. She used to call it blackmail material. Now I can see why.”

“It couldn't be that bad.”

“It was quite great. But I won’t be letting Tim see it any time soon.”

“Fair. But can I see it?”

“I will think about it.” They fall into companionable silence.

Jon carries on brushing the thick hair with his fingers and Martin just closes his eyes and basks in the attention. He feels less shaken than he was a few minutes ago.

“Do you think that the spider is alright?” He asks, a little bit of worry creeping back into his voice.

“I don’t think so.” Jon scowls a little. “The worms tend to fight the spiders with all of the power they have. But the Spider is probably going to send you another one.”

“Huh? The Spider?” 

“Yes. It is another one of the Powers.”

“Alright.” Martin’s voice goes a little too high at the end. “So I am going to be finding spiders in my things more often now?”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? I like spiders, it’s just… Are they on our side?”

“Yes, I would like to think so.”

Martin turns so he can look Jon in the eyes. 

“How will you know?”

“If they help us in the coming struggle. I think they will. We will pull through no matter what.”

Jon tries to make it sound like he is sure. Like he isn’t fretting over every detail that can go wrong. The past few nights without Micheal have demonstrated to him he could spend more than eight hours just worrying about everything. 

A knock on the door puts stop to their conversation. The person on the other side doesn’t wait for a signal and just enters. Elias owes the Institute after all. 

“Ah, there you are. I have informed your co-workers about the events at the butcher’s shop. They promised to leave together.”

“Thank you.” Jon smiles at the man.

He can feel his eyes trailing over the sweater appreciatively. They stop at Martin who is redder than his hair. He is frozen in a need to move, to make himself presentable in front of his boss. Jon doesn’t exactly keep him from moving, but he doesn’t stop his hand either.

“I hope you are alright Martin.” Elias addresses him. His grey eyes trail over him, taking in every detail. “The hive has grown bolder than I expected.”

“I am okay. More or less. Just shaken.”

“Understable. If I can offer to drive you both to your flat I would be honored.” There is stiffness in his words that haven’t been there before.

Jon looks down at Martin.

“It would be the best since I don’t want to disturb Micheal in its corridors. But we can always take the Uber.”

“No, no. It’s quite alright. Thank you, Elias.” Martin sits up. He knows he looks like a mess. There is no use trying to tidy himself now when his boss has already seen it.

“Of course. It would be best to leave immediately.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Jon moves up. He takes everything he needs from his desk and puts it in his bag. He can feel both Elias and Martin watching him.

“Be ready to call an ambulance next week.” He tells Elias. “And maybe keep other workers from coming here.”

“Already? I thought she would take more time to plan her attack.”

“No, they are already in the walls. She would like to wait a little longer to play with us. With me. But I won't let her.” Jon shudders. He can feel it in his bones. It feels like some of the worms have crawled inside and started eating the marrow. He wants to claw at his face, at the scars to get them out. “There are worms ready to attack the Archives. And they are close." He explains to Martin.

“Like the ones that attacked me? Are you sure the CO2 is going to work?”

“Yes. Just make sure you aim right.”

Martin nods. The fire extinguishers have been installed in each room of the Archives. He has been planning to buy one for himself, but it was more of a plan for later. Now he wishes he did it the same day Jon has told them about the threat. 

“Once you use the fire alarm everyone will evacuate,” Elias mentions. “It will be the safest way.”

He wouldn't care for the staff but since Jon has asked for his help he is going to stand by his word. The praise awaiting him is worth it. And the pleasing look of those green eyes is worth almost as much.

“Okay, so press the alarm and use the extinguishers,” Martin says out loud like he is making a mental note. It helps him with the nervous flatter he feels in his stomach at the thought of facing the worms again.

“Do you need anything from your desk?” Jon asks him, but after getting a shake of his head that makes the red curls dance he turns to Elias. “Let us go then.”

They pass Tim and Sasha in the hall. Both are leaning over Sasha’s desk, deep in a conversation about notes for one of the statements. They look up when they hear the steps. Elias nods at them, Martin waves nervously, but Jon can’t keep himself from reminding them.

“Be sure to leave before the sunset. And don’t go alone.”

Tim mock salutes him. “Sure thing, boss. We are wrapping up here. Have a nice night.” And just to tease him he adds. “All of you.”

Jon huffs but doesn’t hide his smile when Sasha elbows Tim in the ribs. He is sure she is all of the self-control he has. 

They leave the Archives and move to the parking lot. Martin looks unsure where he is supposed to sit, but Jon gently presses on his lower back so he will sit in the front. 

“You should give Elias directions.” He explains. 

Martin nods unsure. He is still reeling from the fact his boss’s boss is giving them a ride. Elias appears to take some pleasure from this but doesn’t comment. He seems to sense the rebuttal he would get from Jon. 

And like he has said before, Martin isn’t bad. His devotion to Jon is apparent and his connection to the Web could prove useful. He knows he won’t hear the end of it once Peter gets back. He will no longer be able to deny his own taste for sweet men who would do anything for him. He would pay any money he had to know how Mordechai had managed to pass this knowledge to his heirs.

“I won’t ask you how you find working in the Archives.” He tells the redhead once they get inside his car. “But I hope that I won’t be facing any legal complaints any time soon.”

It makes Martin chuckle, a little surprised at the joke.

“It was fine. I mean it still is. More than fine. It is good. The whole ancient powers thing is a lot but in a good way? It is good there is more to this world than just science.”

“It may be just that we haven’t discovered the right science for this.” Jon chimes in.

“Jon? I do not think that altars and sacrifices can be scientifically measured.”

“And yet someone did try it with Smirks architecture and the Mill Bank Prison.”

Martin looks between them once again lost in the conversation. This time Elias fills him in, using it as an excuse not to answer the accusation.

“There are rituals connected to the powers and one of those has taken place under the Institute.” He doesn’t want to go into his failure.

“It worked in a way,” Jon tells him as if reading his thoughts. The words almost make Elias lose control of the car.

“I assure you it didn’t.”

“Martin, could you answer me this. If someone has found a way to change bodies for more than a hundred years does that mean he is somehow blessed by a power out of this world?” 

Martin can read between lines. He isn’t stupid. He looks at Elias with a quiet “ah”. It explains… not much to be honest. He knows he should be surprised at Elias knowing so much but he just assumed that he must know something since he is with Jon. But now he looks at this weird man with amazement. 

“I… Yes, I would say so.”

“Thank you, Martin.” Elias glances at him. “But the whole purpose of the ritual was to the brink the Watcher’s Crown. Not this.”

Jon shrugs. 

“Were you marked by all of the powers?”

It makes Elias scowl and he doesn’t honor him with an answer. Jon takes the time given to them to explain the names of the Rituals to Martin. 

They are very close to Martin’s apartment when he finally finds some courage to ask.

“Please don’t laugh if I am wrong. But are you… by any means, Jonah Magnus?”

It looks so obvious now. The eyes that he has seen in so many rooms in the Magnus Institute are watching him right now. The resemblance would be uncanny if Martin didn't see the connection now.

“Yes, I used to be called that.” The admission is so quiet it could almost be missed.

It is not that Elias is unsure or ashamed. It is just so long since he had to admit it. Jon just knew. So did Piter. Another knowledge passed on through Lucas's bloodline. He is almost sure they gossip about him. But now this ordinary man asks him to admit to the one secret he has kept for more than a hundred years. No, the ordinary is no longer the right word. Not with the Web reaching out to Martin and Jon watching over him like a hawk.

“Huh.” Martin looks amazed. But he doesn’t press. They have reached his flat. 

All three of them leave the car and accompany Martin to his floor. They wait for him to pack his things in his living room. The flat is neat, but there are a few cobwebs in the corners. Elias catches Jon observing them and when their eyes meet he smirks.

“It seems your plan is working.” He notices.

He waits for Jon to correct him, to say ‘our plan’. He doesn’t. 

“Make sure that Tim and Sasha aren’t harmed.” It is less of a plea than it is a command.

“Of course. I do think that Mr. Stoker will be capable of protecting them both. While Miss James observes.”

Elias doesn’t let on if he has looked through Jon’s plan for Sasha, but he is aware of a part of it at least. 

“I will not be taking chances.” His tone is hard and his eyes do not blink. He stares Elias down until the other man looks away.

“Ah, I’m nearly done,” Martin calls from the kitchen.

“Just make sure to pack some clothes.” Jon answers. “Unless we are supposed to expect another package at the Archives.” He says to Elias.

His tone is dry but Elias smiles like it’s been the greatest compliment.

“Martin has a great collection of well-made jumpers.” He informs Jon. “but I wouldn't oppose to looking into some blazers. Maybe a coat.”

The redhead comes in with a bag half-filled with clothes. The rest of the space is taken by tea and cocoa. 

“You have milk?” He asks Jon.

“Yes, I should have some.” A quick nudge into power gives him the information he needs. “Two bottles. The expiration date is in two weeks.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Martin looks at him questioningly. 

Jon feels a blush of embarrassment climb up his neck. “You asked.”

“What Jon is meaning to say is that his power sometimes amazes even him.” The mirth in Elias’s voice is palpable. 

“Huh.” Martin turns to him with curiosity shining in his eyes. “So what exactly can  ** you ** do?”

“I can see.” At Martin’s deadpan face Elias smirks. “I have two eyes perfectly capable of seeing what I want to watch.”

Jon doesn’t try to break the spell by reminding him about having only two eyes and his ability to be contained in looking through the eyes of others.

“I can also… To put in bluntly read minds. And share parts of my own.”

Martin nods amazed. Then he stammers. “Read minds?” He says in a faint voice.

Elias smirks, likely following Martin’s thoughts.

“Quite.” He answers one of them.

Jon realizes that this conversation will probably lead to more mortification on Martin’s side.

“Come on. We should leave before the hive gets here.” The other two men agree even though the red-head keeps looking at his boss unsure. 

* * *

They part under Jon’s block. Elias declines a proposition to stay for a cup of tea. He tells them he is going to take care of some business connected to the Institute. Martin guesses it concerns watching over Tim and Sasha. He rolls his eyes at Jon’s surprised look. 

“You two weren’t really quiet you know.” He grumbles. 

He cheers up once they go inside. He looks around Jon’s flat taking in all of the details. He doesn’t say it out loud but Jon thinks it is more than he expected. The controlled chaos of his shelves to appease the Spiral and the carefully stacked books for the Eye make him smile. 

"You can use my shower." Jon tries to make it sound like he isn't scolding Martin for his appearance. He knows that he would feel better once he is clean and wearing new clothes.

"Oh, yes." Martin shffles to the couch. "Where should I leave my bag?

"Just toss it there." Jon makes a vague gesture towards the shelves. Martin takes out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He has also brought his own towel, a purple one. Jon can feel the knowledge about it at the back of his mind. 

"You can use anything you find in the bathroom." He speaks to keep himself from finding out more than he wants. The power hums unhappily. 

"Thanks." Martin disappears behind closed doors.

It gives Jon time to quickly look into his bedroom and make sure everything is perfect. He changes into his own sweats and old What the ghost? t-shirt. He is sure Martin will appreciate it. 

He isn't wrong. The redhead gets out with a bundle of clothes under his arm. He smiles at Jon, amused at the silly logo. He looks so much better and feels almost normal. He puts his work clothes into his bag, taking care to fold the pants nicely. The sweater and the shirt are a lost cause and only a washing machine will help them. 

Once done he moves to the kitchen. He takes well to it, getting out his tea collection. He carefully places each box on the counter. Jon starts boiling the water without being asked. Martin chooses one of the boxes and asks for the mugs. He picks three of them and places the tea inside the pot. Jon steps back to watch him making sure the temperature is perfect before pouring the water into it. Martin hums under his breath while moving around. He is sure when the water is just right, knows the right amount of tea for three cups. The process calms him, its well-reversed steps giving him peace. He covers the pot.

“We should give it five minutes to brew.” He informs Jon.

Only now does he notice the scrutiny he is under. He rubs the back of his neck wondering if he has done something wrong. When Jon almost smiles at him he takes it as a good sign. That almost smile hunts his dream ever since he has stumbled upon Jon during his apprenticeship. It was a few years ago and he had to work for that not-there smile for a month. It was worth it. Looking now at the scarred man he can say for sure that it has been worth it.

“So, uh.” He looks around the small kitchen so he doesn’t have to face the piercing green eyes. “When can we expect Micheal to show up?”

“I...don’t know? He hasn’t been back since you two met.”

“Oh. I thought… No, I am sure he will come by.” The certainty of his own words surprises him.

Jon nods like it is completely understandable. “Mother is speaking to you.”

“What? What mother?” 

“The Spider. The one that has helped you today. She has been interested in you before. Now she is making a move.”

Martin’s brows rise. There is something different in talking to Jon right now. Like he is talking to him but someone else is answering. That different Jon speaks quietly but surely and doesn’t blink. 

“Okay. So Mother. She is another embodiment?”

“Yes. Being scared of being caught in a web. She stands behind a lot of machinations that sometimes help other fears. Or she disturbs their plans. In the end, she likes the world the way it is. Any change that is too big isn’t welcome.”

“Okay. And she is interested in me? Why? I have no superpowers.”

“Neither does Tim or Sasha. Neither did I. It all comes to choice really. If you chose to serve her you will get those ‘superpowers’.”

“So I will be working for her instead of the Institute? I don’t want to leave you.” Martin feels mortified at letting those words tumble out but they are true. He doesn’t mean just Jon. He likes Tim’s teasing and Sasha’s quiet support. He enjoys talking to them not only about his work but about his life, his movie collection, what he did during the weekend. He doesn’t want to stop, not when he finally got it.

“Martin, the tea is ready,” Jon informs him.

“Ah, yes.” He quickly turns towards the mugs.

“To answer your question you won’t need to leave the Institute. Elias won’t fire you. It’s just that you won’t be dependent on the Eye. Not only on it. No one said you have to pray to only one god.”

Martin pours the tea into the mugs. He takes two of them, leaving one for Jon to carry to the coffee table. They settle on a couch, each with their own cup. Martin turns to be able to catch his eye while talking. Jon sits sideways with his feet just laying next to Martin’s thigh. He wants to get closer, to get them on his lap. It would make the whole picture so much cozier. 

“So I am going to get help from the Web, Tim from the Flame, and Sasha from the Eye.” He summarizes. 

“Yes.”

“How do you know all of this Jon? I trust you, I really do. But I just want to know. How?”

Jon fidgets. With his hands full he cannot play with his sweater. He can only take a deep breath and focus on the floral scent of the tea.

“I have already lived through all this.”

Martin’s breath hitches.

“Sasha was right.” He mutters.

“You talked about me.”

“Well, yes. Tim even wanted to start a bet on what you are. But we stopped him. It seemed too important to take it lightly.”

“It was. It is. I know I may seem weird or pushy but I just want us to come on top this time.”

“This time? What did happen before?”

Jon tries to take a sip of his tea but burns his tongue. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even want to think about it. But Martin is here and he deserves to get some answers. He has been taking everything in so well. 

“Sasha died first. Something else has taken her place. It took all of our memories of her and changed them. Then Tim. He died while blowing up the Circus. And you. In the end, I couldn't save you.” His hands are trembling so badly the tea sloshes from one side to the other.

He is back there again. The Panopticon around him, Jonah’s corpse decaying in front of his eyes and Martin, lovely Martin pale and lying broken on the ground. A breath catches in his throat. He can smell it, the decay and the smell of petrol. He can hear the wind outside of the tower. He can feel the Eye weeping with him. 

He doesn’t even feel the hot water falling on his hands. He is too caught up in the memory. Martin notices though. He quickly takes his cup away and catches his hands into his. They mirror the position they were in an hour ago. This time they aren’t alone. A door that hasn’t been there opens and a tall, lanky figure joins them in the flat.

“Ah, Archivist. Martin” Micheal greets them. Its eyes are focused on Jon and how he trembles. Its usual smile turns into a frown. “It seems I have arrived just in time.”

“Jon. Jon, can you hear me? I am here. We are here. We are safe. We aren’t going to let that happen.” Martin assures the trembling man before him. He looks quickly to the creature and nods his head towards Jon.

Micheal doesn’t have to be a mind reader to get what he expects from it. It sits behind Jon, gently takes him into its arms. Its arms encircle him pushing him against the too long chest. Martin lets it take over for a second while he looks for a blanket. He finds it and gently covers Jon’s legs. He gets closer so the Archivist’s calf settles comfortably on his lap. He doesn’t stop his murmurs of comfort. 

Jon gets back to them after a long minute. He is just suddenly there, looking around as if he has just awoken from a nightmare.

“Micheal?” He looks surprised at the creature.

“Yes, Archivist?” The creature nuzzles into his hair.

“When did you? No, never mind.” Jon looks up at Martin. 

Even if he is sure that Michela won’t leave he feels apprehension rise up when he looks at the redhead. He doesn’t know what to expect. Will it be too much? The weirdness and the slight instability he is exhibiting could push away anyone. He wouldn't hold it against Martin. He can feel the knowledge of what he is truly feeling banging against the door he keeps locked in his mind. He won't rely on mind-reading. Martin deserves to make his own decision. The pounding makes his head ache. Finally, he feels enough courage to face Martin.

The pure worry and care he sees almost make him balk. 

“I am so sorry Jon. I shouldn't have pressed.”

“No, I… I could have told you it is a sensitive topic. I didn’t know I would react like this.” Jon explains.

There is no anger from Martin. No more questions about the topic. Just warmth and gentle press of his hand against Jon’s leg.

“It seems we both have been through a lot today.” Jon sighs. “At least one of us had a good afternoon.”

“Hmm, yes. I do feel quite full.” Micheal lets its long fingers play with the T-shirt. It doesn’t tear it but it comes close a few times. 

“Good. I made you tea.” Martin says with an encouraging smile. 

Micheal hums from behind Jon.

“Oh, wait” The red-head leans over Jon’s legs, picks the fresh cup, and passes it to Micheal. 

It takes it from him and carefully takes its first sip over Jon's head. There is a moment of almost tense silence. Micheal takes another sip. Than another.

“I do like tea.” It says, sounding surprised.

Martin exhales. It is a great first step in this new relationship.

“Good. I have more? Other kinds and brands. Since I will be staying here with Jon and you will have some time to try them out.”

Micheal doesn’t look surprised but still, Martin fills it in on his encounter with a hive. It is still unclear whatever it was Jane Prentiss herself or one of her minions. Jon is doubtful but the connection between worms is so strong he finds it hard to discern between one hive and another. They share a mind and what one would call a soul. If he tried hard enough he would probably know. He doesn’t care.

“So Jon said we should expect an attack next week.” Martin finishes.

“The Institute under siege?” Micheal sounds amused. “And how did the Watcher take it? It is his domain after all.”

“You mean Elias? Well, he wasn’t too thrilled.” Jon looks up surprised. 

He hasn’t even noticed this. Was he too focused on playing with Elias instead of observing him. Martin is looking down into his tea so it is hard to read him. It doesn’t seem like another thing given to him by the Mother. It sounds more like his own people skills.

“But he said we only need to use the fire alarm to get everyone out of the Institute. He didn’t mention giving us a helping hand though.” Martin raises his eyes to catch Jon's gaze.

“No, he won’t be helping us. The Archives are mine. I will take care of them.” Jon clarifies. 

“Oh, of course.”

And he needs his assistants there to witness what awaits them outside of the Institute. It will feed the Eye and the humming part of him wouldn't let it be any other way. 

“Will you be there?” Martin asks Micheal.

The creature chuckles with its many voices.

“It depends. On our lovely Archivist’s will.”

“Yes, you will be. Just in case of something going wrong I will need you to keep watch.”

“So it seems I will.”

“Good.” Martin nods. At the double look of surprise and the delight coming from Micheal he shrugs. “It’s better to have someone on our side. I wouldn't want you to face that thing alone.”

“Thank you.” Jon smiles. It feels weird to be cared for. The hand petting his leg doesn’t stop.

He can feel Micheal’s heat at his back at Martin’s against his legs. It feels like home.

“Have you watched British Bake Off?” Martin asks the creature.

When it says no, he looks almost too delighted. Jon knows it will be a long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are getting close to the season finale! Thank you guys for lovely comments, you fuel my creativity. And give me the strength to write even though I've been feeling like shit recently. Oh well, the joys of the pandemic. Stay safe folks


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be aware: there is smut here

The next two days are a quiet before the storm. 

Jon  ** knows  ** it. Both Micheal and Martin notice how tense he is. Sitting between them he keeps on trying to find a comfortable position. He can feel each imperfection on his couch. Around noon he relents and chooses to move away from his companions. Martin shoots him a worried look but knows better than press the issue. Instead, he focuses on something that has been on his mind since yesterday. 

He asks Micheal if he can braid its hair. The monster snickers but lets him play with it out of pure curiosity. It sits on the floor so Martin can have free access to the blond strands. Once it feels the soothing motion of blunt fingers running against its scalp it leans back and lets out a long sight. Martin almost stops his petting, but an unhappy murmur makes him continue. He looks up at Jon to ask for some directions. The Archivist feels an involuntary smile stretch his lips, which wasn’t exactly useful but it calms Martin. He has almost finished the braid when Jon feels like talking. 

“Martin I must ask you for a promise.”

“Hm? What can I do for you?” The redhead doesn’t look up from where his fingers try to put the blond hair into the right places.

It doesn’t help that suddenly they are ignoring gravity and starting to flow. Micheal doesn’t outright giggle, but the shaking of its frame Martin can feel against his legs is enough of a sign.

“When Monday comes I will need you to be extra careful. Prentiss is still dangerous even if she won’t be able to use her whole power in the Institute.”

“Jon, believe me, I will be.” He pulls the braid down so he can make eye contact. “They nearly gave me a heart attack. I am not stupid enough to go chasing after it.”

“No, but you may want to try to help me. Or Sasha. Or Tim. You have to… No, I need you to believe me when I say I will take care of them.”

Jon curls his hands into fists. He wants to beg, to reach out to Martin and shake him. He wants to ask him to stay at the flat, where he will be safe. He could face the living hive alone, just like he did with the Stranger. None of his assistants really need to be there. 

He mulls over it, feels almost ready to say it when his throat contracts stopping the words from coming out. The hum  ** knows  ** better. They need to witness it. They need to see. It is not his place to stop them from feeling fear. He doesn’t wrestle with the power. It is after all just knowledge he has been trying to ignore. And ignorance has never led him to anything good. 

“I know I am not the toughest guy out there. “ Martin continues. “And I know you have a plan so don’t worry. I will follow your orders.” He smiles reassuringly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. Jon nods slowly.

“I know you will. I just needed to make sure. I don’t want to risk your wellbeing.”

“Besides if anything goes wrong Micheal will be there.” Martin sounds resolute. He goes back to taming the blond hair.

A strand has left its place and is floating in the air. It curls around itself forming a spiral. With an eye-roll, Martin catches it and puts it where it is supposed to be. 

“I certainly will be there.” Micheal leans into the hands above him. “You have said so yourself, Archivist.”

It doesn’t sound upset, but there is an edge of impatience in its tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Jon nods. 

“I know you worry. But you will be there. And if we don’t mind a few false statements going out in flames even Tim will be able to help.”

“That’s not why the extinguishers are there. We won’t be starting any fires in the Archives.” Martin congratulates himself for achieving the goal - an outraged Jon is better than the worried one.

“I wasn’t talking about a big fire. Just getting rid of the worms.”

“Martin. The amount of flammable objects inside a library is too big to even play with matches. A fledgling of the Desolation isn’t going to train its power inside my Archives.”

Micheal laughs under its breath.

“See, Archivist? My corridors are a much more useful power than the Flame.”

“Yes, yes. But you are a part of the Archive already.” Jon flicks his wrist. He has started gesticulating wildly without even noticing. “Imagine if we send Tim to try out his powers on your tapestry. It would be a disaster.”

“Ah, you are wrong. It would be quite funny.” Jon recoils at the two completely different emotions he feels coming from Micheal. The typical cheeriness is backed by something way darker than the usual joy caused by chaos.

A new package of knowledge reaches Jon’s mind. He is seeing Micheal just after it was bound by Gertrude. 

_ An Avatar that isn’t supposed to have shape tumbling between existence and non-existence. It is angry. But foremost it is hungry. Gertrude is gone. So is the ship that brought them there. Micheal is left alone, twisting and turning, the madness changing its brain but needing something else to munch on.  _

_ He… no, no longer a he, it crawls on its hands and knees across the stone to get to the water. It needs substance, it needs fear. Its fingers are no longer how they should be. It crawls forward and they get longer, sharper, and thinner. They leave long scratches in the stone. The ground under it twists, it is sure that it’s been going around in circles. But it pushes forward, its mind no longer trying to discern what is real and what’s not. The sky above doesn't have a sun but it is still bright. The clouds twist and turn, creating shapes too angular to be natural.  _

_ The being that used to be Micheal pulls the madness surrendering it into itself. It feels fear, at least for a second. And the madness laches into it, making it want to fight. To defend the last bit of sanity still left.  _

_ Just then it feels wetness reaching its fingers. It won’t win the fight against the madness. Instead, it opens its mind and plunges forward. _

_ There are no people close enough for it to feed. But the fear doesn’t have to come from a human. It feels the answering call of madness from deep under the ocean. Its corridors stay wet and smell of salt for a long time after it crawls into them with its prey. They heal just like it does. The scars left by its meal trashing still tingle whenever someone new enters. _

Jon pulls back. Martin has finished braiding and is looking over his project. Micheal lets him turn it around to check all the angles and even keeps its hair working with gravity. 

When Jon catches its eyes, it winks. 

“What do you think?” Martin asks him. He stands next to Micheal with his hands on his hips. He examines his work critically. 

“It looks… good.” Jon winces at the surprise in his voice. “I mean, it’s not like I expected anything else from you.”

Martin snorts. “I Googled how to braid long hair while you were sleeping this morning.” He admits. “I am no master stylist.”

“Even so, it looks very good.” 

“Thanks. And how do you feel?” He turns to Micheal.

The creature isn’t towering over him like it usually does to Jon, but it still has to look down. It shakes its head a little, checking if the braid will hold.

“Hmm, I find it pleasing.” It decides. 

“Awesome. Now it’s your turn.” Martin turns to Jon.

“What?”

“You can say no, but I think you would look great with a french braid.”

“Did you google how to braid short hair?”

“Maybe?”

Jon smiles. “Fine.”

He doesn’t have to sit on the floor as Micheal did. His height lets him just sit with his back to Martin and let him do his magic. The monster uses the situation as an excuse to leave them. It simply slips through its door, without announcing anything. Still, Martin calls a “Have a nice day.” after it. 

“You have taken to it well.” Jon notices.

“I wouldn't call it that. I just... Ah, sorry” Martin gently untangles splot of hair. “I know it cares about you. And that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, but there is a difference between tolerating it and liking it.”

Martin hums instead of answering. He buys some time by softly massaging Jon’s scalp. 

“It is weird. I mean both Micheal and the whole situation. But is it a good kind of weird? Like something you would read in a book and think ‘oh, I wish it was me’.”

“How many times have you wished to befriend a monster?”

Martin smacks his arm. “It’s not like that. And I wouldn't call us friends. Not yet. Maybe after another few seasons of a few cooking shows I’ve been meaning to watch.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“And I am not going to.”

“Martin.”

“Don’t Martin me, Jon. We are in a relationship now, not at work.”

Martin catches himself but only after the words tumble out of his mouth. 

“Oh.” Jon freezes under his hands. 

“I mean… If the offer still stands. I think I can be friends with Micheal. And Elias isn’t that bad. I am still not over the whole Jonah thing, but I think he must have so many interesting stories to tell. So we'll always have something to talk about. And maybe I will make some tea. And Micheal has a weird sense of humor, but I kind of like it? It knows how to pull you out of your sulking moods so.”

Martin isn’t even halfway done with his braid, but Jon still turns around. His hair falls to his shoulders without the band keeping them in place. Jon looks at Martin, reaches with his burned hand, and carefully places his hand on his cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“I may change my mind if you keep asking. Because I will think that you are having second thoughts and…”

Jon places his fingers against Martin’s lips. “I am not. I would like to kiss you. Is this okay?”

“It would be easier without your fingers between us.” Martin notices.

His cheeks are flaming red. Tim would probably kill him for saying something like this before getting kissed. He should make sure the mood is alright. Tim has said it is crucial if he wants to swoon Jon. He should probably stop listening to his coworkers when it comes to relationship advice. But the one he got from Sasha to always use a lip balm with a nice smell and taste if he expects to be kissed will maybe play out. He lets his lips fall open and licks them. The feel of his tongue against Jon’s fingers makes them both shudder.

Before he can do something stupid like taking them inside his mouth and sucking them Jon takes them away. Instead, he gets even closer and lets his arms fall on Martin’s shoulder. With outermost care, he leans forward and presses their lips against each other. Their kiss tastes like a fruit lip balm and tea. Martin decides it isn’t a bad taste. To make sure of it he initiates another kiss. And then another. 

He circles his hands around Jon and pulls him closer. The warmth of his body, just the knowledge he is there feels like a dream. When they come up for breath Jon doesn’t go far. He lets their foreheads touch. This close Martin cannot focus on Jon's eyes but he still tries. It makes the other man laugh a quiet, beautiful laugh. 

“I hope it was alright.” Martin knows he isn’t the best kisser out there. He has been trying to learn since middle school. The results have always been mediocre.

“I wouldn't know. I am just glad you are the one kissing me.” Jon answers his thoughts.

Martin lets out a quiet laugh. “I gather you and Elias share the mind-reading powers.”

“Yes, this is a good assumption.” Jon leans in for another kiss. The taste of Martin’s lips is so good he can’t help himself.

“I can buy you your own lip balm, you know?” Martin catches his breath after another batch of kisses. 

“I probably have some from Georgie. She used to buy me all kinds of self-care products.”

“So she is responsible for the conditioner in the shower?”

“Yes. I probably still have an unopened cologne and body balsam.” Jon hesitates. “Should we be talking about my ex right now?”

Martin shakes his head but still smiles. “We can talk about whatever we want. There are no strict rules here.”

“I know that.” He huffs. “Yet this is enough of an unorthodox situation without it.”

“I am kissing my boyfriend, what’s unorthodox about it?” Martin lets their noses brush.

He decides that this frustrated Jon, with red cheeks and messy hair, is his favorite one.

“You know what I mean.” Jon grumbles under his breath. Martin’s smile betrays his teasing. Jon leans in to kiss it away. 

“Just tell me if you find something uncomfortable. I don’t exactly care about the ‘normal’. I am in an… open? Relationship with my boyfriend, our boss, and a local monster. Normal isn’t a priority.”

“Good. I am… glad. It goes both ways. You should…” This time it is Martin who puts his fingers on Jon’s lips.

“No, listen. You have been giving me time and space to think. And I appreciate it. But have you given yourself time to think about this? You can read minds, Jon. You will probably know if I don’t like something even before I do. But I won’t. Elias may, I don’t know about Micheal. But, here between us? You need to tell me if you don’t want anything. And I…” Martin falters for a second. “I’ve wanted to ask you about your relationship with… well with sex. There’ve been…”

“Rumors.” Jon finishes for him. He pulls the fingers on his lips away and sits up straight. 

It makes his pull further away from Martin, but he feels like he needs space so he can have this conversation without the siren song of Martin’s lips. 

“Yes.” Martin suddenly looks scared. He wonders if he has offended Jon. Maybe he should have waited with asking. A scarred hand catching his breaks him away from his running thoughts. 

“I know there are rumors about me. We work with Tim. He is the biggest gossiper I know.” They share a smile. It makes Martin’s heart slow down, at least a little. “And they are true. I mean, I do not, particularly like sex. It is okay, as a way to bring someone I care about pleasure. But I do not care for the reciprocation. Not because I don’t find you handsome.” Jon squeezes his hand. “You are beautiful. But I just don’t have the drive. So if you ever feel like you want to try it with me I will be happy to help. I’ve been told I am very good with my mouth.” Jon tries to deliver the last line smoothly.

The blush on his cheeks makes it look cute. Martin stops himself leaning for a kiss. He needs to give a clear answer. Even if he knows Jon already  ** knows ** .

“This is fine. Really. I don’t really feel like having sex too often. But it’s good to know you are on board with helping me.” He clears his throat. “And I feel honored that you’ve told me. And that you care about me.”

“Good.” It hasn’t been as awkward as he feared it would be. He thanks the Eye that Elias just read his mind and there hasn’t been an actual conversation about this.

Martin’s pure reaction was enough. The teasing he would get from Elias would be overkill.

“Can I braid your hair? And then maybe go back to kissing?”

“Of course.” Jon lets go of his hand and turns. “But I must ask: why are you so obsessed with my hair? And Micheal’s?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Martin.”

“Okay, okay. So when I was younger I would play with my cousins. There were three girls in the group and they all had long hair.” Martin finds a rhythm while he braids the hair. His moves are smooth and methodical. A strand, after a strand, after a strand. He finds himself thinking of a longer thread, of weaving a more complicated pattern. “I was the oldest so I was supposed to look after the others. I often ended styling their hair so they could play princesses or fight with sticks without the hair getting tin the way. We even got a few boys to sit down and have a short braid so they would look like true Vikings. It was so soothing and my first thought when I saw Micheal was ‘wow, he would look good with a braid’.”

This time Martin finishes quickly. “You connected a happy memory to us.” Jon summarizes.

He feels the weight of the braid on his back. It isn’t itself heavy, but he  ** knows  ** that if he reached and untangled his hair there would be a web attached to the strands.

“I guess I did.” Martin stands up and reaches his hand. “Come, you should see yourself in a mirror.”

Jon takes his hand and follows him to the bathroom. He looks into the mirror and there he is. Still scarred and slightly gray. With his hair pulled back he can see how the pucker marks travel down his throat. Yet it doesn’t make him look as disfigured as he is used to seeing himself. The white in his hair makes the pattern visible when he turns to see the side. His cheeks are still red from the kissing and the blush doesn’t stop there. It travels lower and makes him look human. He knows that there is blood under his skin. His oversized t-shirt, which he hasn’t cared to change after the night, reveals how the redness spreads across his chest. 

Martin smiles at him in the mirror. He looks adoringly at him. Slowly he stands in front of Jon and makes him look up so they can kiss. With the mirror right there Jon can’t help himself and opens one eye to watch them. It isn’t enough, the angle is wrong.

It feels natural to let his other eyes open. Along his neck and down his arms eyes of different colors reveal themselves. They watch while Jon can close his human eyes. When Martin pulls him closer some of them blink. When the redhead asks quietly “How do you feel about letting me touch your skin? I mean, without your shirt?” they close with pleasure.

“Positive.” The shirt finds itself on the floor which allows Martin to freely run his hands over Jon’s back.

The Archivist arches into the touch like a cat. It feels so good to be touched, like an itch finally being scratched. The warmth of Martin’s palms and the way he maps out each of Jon's vertebra. He moves his hands to the thin skin covering his rib cage. He puts a stop to their kissing just so he can lean back and watch where his hands fall.

“You are beautiful.” He tells Jon. 

He is careful with the scars, but also curious. He takes the hands scarred with a spiral and gently traces the curves. Jon shivers involuntarily.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It’s fresh and sensitive, that’s all.” Jon drawls.

Martin lowers his head and pulls the hand up. He places a brief kiss against the center of the scar. Jon takes a deeper breath. It feels intense like someone has touched a nerve running through his arm, up his shoulder right to his brain. It makes him want to jerk the hand back but also stay where he is just to feel this new feeling. 

Another kiss makes his hand clench without a direct order. The feeling borders on pain, but it is mostly pressure. It makes him more aware of his body than he has been for a long time. He knows Martin wants to place another kiss. He stops him with his free hand. His knees feel so weak he is sure he will collapse after another shock to his nervous system.

“It would be better if we moved to the couch.”

“Yes, of course.” Martin smiles charmingly.

Jon thinks about stopping himself from leaning for a direct kiss. But he doesn’t have to. He can do what he wants. He catches Martin in a brief kiss and quickly pulls away. He picks up his t-shirt from the floor and goes back to the living room. He pulls it on, feeling the chill of his flat getting to him. He gently nudges the spiral on his arm with his power. It answers quickly like it has been waiting for permission just to warm him. It doesn’t put the illusion on him, maybe accepting Martin as not a threat. Jon lets his own fingers trace the spiral. It doesn’t feel the same, but the pulses of the scar answer his touch. 

Martin trails after him. They end up just where they started, with their legs tangled together. Martin takes his glasses off, just so he can nuzzle against Jon’s neck. It would feel wrong to push the hard metal against his delicate throat. This time Jon plays with his hair. 

“You’ve asked me about the world before.” He starts. “And I haven’t been able to answer. I don’t know if I will ever be able to tell you everything about it. But just know I will do everything I can to make sure you are safe.”

Martin chuckles.

“What?” Jon tries not to sound too offended.

“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just that… I believe you, Jon. You don’t have to repeat yourself. I need you to believe me. So we can move past this.”

“I believe you!” Jon clears his throat. “I just… I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

“No, you won’t.” Martin agrees. “Do you know why?”

Jon shakes his head. 

“It is because I won’t let you. I will follow you and your orders until the very end.”

“Good. This sounds good.”

Martin looks into his eyes. The redhead smiles and leans in for a kiss. They once again fall into each other. Every time Jon feels doubt begin to surface he focuses on the stubble he can feel rubbing against his cheek. When a stray thought of a fight against a being with thousand little soldiers appears in his thoughts he focuses on a warm hand cradling his head and the other tracing his spine. When Martin decides that they do need to breathe they stay silent, taking in the moment. 

At some point Jon lets himself explore. He traces Martin’s lines, squeezing his strong arms that could lift him without a problem. He lets himself linger on the softness of Martin’s belly. There is strength underneath, but outside it feels good to just lean against. He resembles a cat kneading its pillow. He almost snorts when he catches Martin making the comparison in his mind. The strong shoulders give him a nice place to land his hands. 

When they stop Martin leans back and takes Jon with him. Sprawled on the couch they look at each other. Jon can swear he sees more in Martin’s eyes than the whole knowledge he can feel in his bones has to offer. He sighs at his own thoughts.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. You would think me a bore or worse, a hopeless romantic.”

“Hey! I like your romantic side.”

“I don’t believe you have ever seen it.”

“And that’s something you should work on.”

Martin beams at him. He waits for an answer to his question patiently.

“Alright, alright. I thought that your eyes are more beautiful than all of the knowledge I have.” He rushes out.

“Oh.” Martin smiles so widely his cheeks hurt. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to. Really.”

Martin snorts. “Don’t get offended if I like the compliments you give me.”

“It wasn’t… Okay, you are right.” Jon grumbles.

He nuzzles into Martin’s chest. It is comfy to lay like this. He has gotten used to sleeping with Micheal at his back, but this also feels nice.

“Do you think we could sleep in bed today?” Martin asks him offhandedly. “I liked cuddling but my back…”

Jon knows what he is talking about. Especially since Martin has slept sitting up against the couch his back has been giving him pain since the morning. He hasn’t said anything. Jon curses himself for not noticing.

“Of course. It is there after all.”

“Good. Maybe a nap now?”

“Nap. Sounds good.” 

Jon lets his head fall back on Martin’s chest. A hand on his back makes him feel secure. He times his breath to match Martin’s and soon he finds the same meditative state he has reached with Micheal.

* * *

Jon can’t say he is surprised when on Sunday morning he gets a text from Elias. It simply reads “I will see you at 6. I will bring dinner.”. Jon reads it out loud while Martin tries to judge the right amount of milk to add to his coffee. 

“I assume we do not have to worry about dinner.” Jon sighs into his own cup. 

He writes ‘bring more coffee beans.’ with his free hand. 

“Are you sure he wants me here?” Martin finally joins him at the table.

“Yes, I am sure. He knows you are here.”

“But he may just want to spend some time with you. I can find something to do in the bedroom.”

“Martin. Don’t be stupid.” At the wince, Martin tries to hide behind the cup Jon sighs. “I mean, if Elias wanted to spend time alone with me he would know this isn’t the right time. This is not some kind of tug war. He knows I am here with you. You could say we are a packaged deal.”

Martin snorts into his coffee. He quickly recovers and smiles.

“Alright. Do you think Micheal will also be here?”

“If he wants to annoy Elias.”

“They really do not like each other.” Jon raises his eyebrow with a clear ‘is this even a question’ written all over his face. “I know, it’s just I thought Micheal calls him the Watcher as a pet name. Just like he calls you Archivist.”

“I am not sure what Micheal thinks of Elias. It knows about my relationship with him, obviously. It likes to annoy him, that for sure.”

“Maybe it is just pulling his pigtails. Like you see young children do to each other.”

“Flirting through making him angry?” Jon looks up, his thoughts trying to seek counsel with the Eye. Unsurprisingly it is silent about the romantic goings of monsters. He tries his own pool of knowledge, but all he  ** knows  ** is that Micheal finds the whole situation amusing. He tells Martin as much.

“Yes, but I have noticed it also finds us amusing. So maybe it is its own way of liking someone.”

“It also finds a fire in its corridors amusing.”

“Okay, wrong word. It finds us interesting.”

“Hmm.” Jon reaches over the table so he can grab Martin’s hand.

The redhead interlocks their fingers. His thumb glides gently over the risen skin of the burn marks. The body balsam has made it less dry. Martin has even added a reminder to Jon’s phone so he won’t forget about his new skin routine.

“Then you might be right. It is pulling Elias pigtails.” Jon shakes his head. “This explains a lot.”

Martin makes a questioning sound that ques Jon to share what had happened before he decided to join them in their rather unique relationship.

* * *

They change into more presentable clothes before Elias arrives. Jon relies on Martin’s sense of style to match the color of his sweater to a pair of jeans he has bought back in his band days. They have holes in them, which would disqualify them for a workday. Martin almost begs Jon to try them on when he sees them for the first time. Once they are on it is just a matter of finding the right sweater. Next Martin ties his hair back. The redhead goes for his usual black pants and comfy sweater combination. When they stand next to each other Martin grins so hard it hurts.

“What?” Jon looks at Martin’s eyes in the mirror. They catch his gaze readily.

“We look like we just came back from your concert.”

“No, there’s not enough make up for that.”

Martin goes quiet for a second. His face colors slowly.

“There was makeup?” His voice is weak. His eyes roam Jon’s face rapidly.

Even without his thoughts being so loud Jon could guess what he is thinking about. 

‘A lipstick? Eye shadow? Was his hair dyed?’

“There was. I must say I looked rather good in it.” He teases. 

Martin nods. “I know you did.” 

Jon snorts which breaks the spell.

“Hey! You are teasing me!” Martin laughs. The tips of his ears are still red.

“Maybe.” Jon gets closer and stands on his tiptoes. He reaches for Martin and is met half-way for a tender kiss. 

The taste of the lip balm makes him smile. He is sure that this brand will be forever associated in his mind with their first kiss. 

A slow, deliberate knock makes them pull back.

“He is early.” Martin notices with a frown.

“He wants to show off.” Jon doesn’t even have to guess this one.

He adds an eye roll for a better effect. Martin smiles and untenses a little. Jon is sure he isn’t the best person to comfort anyone, but he is glad his attempt has worked. He kisses Martin quickly for the last time and ventures to open the door. The redhead stands next to the kitchen island unsure what to do. 

Just like Jon expected, Elias has decided to impress. He has brought a take out from one of the fancier restaurants in London. It includes Martin’s favorite food and one of Jon’s. 

“Jon, Martin. It is good to see you.” He greets them.

Jon lets him in and takes away the bags. With a quiet "Hello" he leaves him next to the door and goes to his kitchen. It means Martin is left to do the talking.

“Hi. It is nice to see you, too.” Martin smiles. He isn’t even completely lying.

“I hope there have been no problems yesterday.”

“No, everything has been okay. Well, we didn’t leave the flat so maybe there could have been something awaiting us outside, but we just stayed on the couch.” 

“Ah, of course.” Elias leaves behind his coat and shoes before moving further into the flat.

He observes Jon’s quick movement around the kitchen. The black band tying the brown hair catches his eyes. The braid is nothing fancy, nothing like he used to see back in the day. But it makes Jon look much softer. His boney shoulders covered by a green woolen sweater aren’t pulled up his ears like they used to. His Archivist looks good, he decides. The thigh trousers are a nice bonus. 

Martin catches him staring and smiles. It turns more bashful when Elias just smirks at him, unashamed of letting himself adore the being currently judging if the last clean plate it has will be able to fit all of the spaghetti that arrived in the box. With an irritated sigh, Jon just  ** knows  ** and moves on. The power in him doesn’t have a consciousness, not really, but the act of reaching into its depth to judge the volume of the dish makes it shudder.

“I hope you have made sure that Tim and Sasha are okay.”

“Of course, Jon.” 

“Would Prentiss attack them because of me?” Martin looks between them worried.

“Possible. But I am more worried about the Stranger. It has marked Tim.” Jon pauses for a second. “Don’t tell him you know. Or that I know. It would make him suspicious.”

“Okay. But what does it exactly mean? Marked like a prey?”

“Yes. As something to be devoured at a later date.” Jon picks up the plate with his food. “Let’s move this to the table.”

They follow him and soon they are sitting around a small table. Martin has a lot of questions that he has come up within the last 24h. He plays with his food a little before finally deciding which one to ask.

“There is one thing I don’t get. If you have been able to keep the Institute in your hands for so long why do we need money from the Lucas family?” 

Elias doesn’t freeze midbite. Instead, he calmly chews on his steak before swallowing and leaning his work on the edge of the plate. He would take a drink of water if Jon thought of giving them any. The thought pushed towards Jon, makes him get up and search his kitchen for a jug. Martin looks after him surprised but still waits for the answer.

“The amount of money needed to run the Institute is unfortunately too big for my account only. We needed patrons from the day I opened it and it stayed this way. I’ve had a good relationship with Mordecai and he was more than happy to help me with starting and expanding the Institute. Other families used our Artifact Storage as a safe place to leave all of the strange heirlooms that have appeared over the ages.”

“Or a place from which they can acquire those.” Jon buts in. 

“Yes. There has been no need for me to invest my own money into the Institute for a long time.”

Martin mulls it over. “What about the Archives? Are there any families really interested in the Statements?”

“No, it is more of my pet project if you will.” Elias sounds sheepish.

It doesn’t hide his amusement at Jon’s frown. 

“I object to being called a pet project.”

“Of course, dear. I misspoke.”

“But you aren’t paying us out of your pocket.” Martin ignores the exchange. He is too deep in the dot-connecting mindset. “You are using their money to further your goals.”

“I wouldn't say so. Finding true Statements about the Powers leads us to artifacts that can be secured.”

“Have there been a lot of instances of someone reporting a real artifact?”

“No.” He admits.

It makes Jon snort. “He got you here.”

“Oh, sorry.” Martin realizes how intense his questioning has become. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You haven’t. But we are quite fortunate that most of the families donating their money to the Institute haven’t reached the same conclusion you have.” This time Elias can use the glass of water to buy some time. “And that most of them do not care enough to look into our accounting books.”

“They do seem way too busy worrying about themselves.” Martin notices. 

“Ah, yes. You have been to the gala.”

“Yes. The event was great, of course. It’s just…”

“The company.”

“Well, yes. They seem… Rather closed off.”

Elias nods. He has gone back to eating during the conversation, but he pauses again. He looks for the right words so he doesn’t outright insult the man sitting in front of him. It would make Jon rather cross with him.

“They value only those that have a long history with their families. Or those that have a high status. It is the way it has always been.”

Martin focuses on his food. He knows what those words mean. He thinks back to the galas and feeling so out of place. He is brought back from his dark thoughts by a hand on his wrist. Jon observes him with his deep, green eyes. Martin is far too human still to see other pairs glaring at Elias. 

“Those elites do not realize they have been paying for their own doom. There is no use for people like them.” Jon tells Elias without looking from Martin. “Old money, new money. They care about it without even knowing why. Without knowledge, the want is just animal instinct.” His anger makes the words come from somewhere else than just his own thoughts. 

The static makes his voice sound even deeper. Elias shivers in a not completely unpleasant way.

“I will not argue. But they are useful.”

“You should care more about other qualities than usefulness.” It is as much a warning as it is advice.

“Of course. Which is why if you feel like ever coming again it would be my pleasure to accompany you, Martin.”

The redhead looks up surprised. “You would?”

“Yes. It seems like your ability to read people can be quite dangerous. It would be useful. “ Elias smiles at one of the brown eyes blinking at him from Jon’s neck. “But foremost I would enjoy your company. And this could be an opportunity to show you that those meetings can be something other than just dreadful.” 

“I will think about it.” Martin nods. “Won’t you be joining us?” He twists his hand so he can catch Jon’s hand.

“No, I would rather not.” Jon turns from him, not wanting to look him in the eye. “The amount of people there makes me uncomfortable.”

Martin squeezes his fingers with understanding. “It’s alright. I will share all of the fresh gossips with you.”

“Why would you? I’m not Tim.”

“The gossip also counts as knowledge.” Elias notices.

“I no longer need to feed on knowledge. I  ** know  ** things. I am knowledge.”

“Hmm. Then don’t spoil it for me.” Martin brushes away some of the red curls that have fallen on his face. He has forgotten the hair products to style his hair.

“Yes, yes. It’s not like I will be searching for any scandalous facts about one heiress or another.”

“That could be useful actually.”

“I will not.”

Martin lets go of his hand. He is smiling again which Jon counts as a win. He makes a mental note for later to talk to Elias about his stance on people not coming from rich, powerful families. Elias knows what he is in for judging by the almost regretful look on his face.

“Isn’t Elias Bouchard just a normal person? Without any connections?” Martin asks.

“Yes. As you may expect it took a lot of work to achieve the status amount of those elites.”

“And that didn’t convince you that there is something wrong?” 

“Excuse me?”

“You have changed bodies, but even though you are the same person inside the fact that the body doesn’t belong to some distinguished family line you had to put twice as much effort. Even though you are the Head of the Institute. The body you inhabit has decided that, not your skills or assets.”

“Leave it, Martin.” Jon finishes his spaghetti. “There is no use to arguing with him.”

“I disagree. Martin has brought up an interesting point. I will think about it.”

“That’s good. It’s all I wanted. I would love to accompany you if the offer still stands.”

“Of course. I will send you the invitation when the next gala gets near.”

Elias smiles at Martin. The redhead hopes he hasn’t just signed his own death warrant.

“Organize it after we are done with Prentiss. Maybe even the Stranger.” Jon relaxes. He leans his back against the back of the chair. “We have enough to worry about.”

“Yes, yes. Those events take time to organize. Do not worry.”

“Will the Palmer family be there?” Martin looks a little quizzy which piques Jon’s interest. 

“Yes, they usually attend.” Elias raises one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

It is good he is asking instead of just plucking the knowledge from Martin’s thoughts. Jon sends something he hopes is affection toward Elias. The shudder that runs through the other man makes him think he has succeeded.

“I have spilled wine on the dress of the…” Martin starts retelling the story of one of the worst evenings he has had. Jon lets the words flow through him, creating pictures under his closed eyelids. He knows what Martin went through, he knows the reaction of the woman he has bumped into. 

Elias is there with him, half-listening to the redhead, half watching the recreation. The strings that Martin pulls with his words tie together the whole situation. And they get tighter around the woman who embarrassed him. Jon follows her after she has departed, happy to have had an outlet for her anger in a form of some fool. He knows where she gets out of the car, the huge house she inhabits with her fiance. He knows her. 

He comes back to Elias gently counseling Martin. It sounds surreal. But it seems to work. 

“There was no need for a reaction like this. Next time you should inform me of this kind of situation. You work for the Institute. That in itself demeans respect for you.”

“I will. I know I have destroyed her dress. But I don’t think I deserved…”

“Unacceptable.” Jon interrupts him. “It was unacceptable.”

“Oh.” 

The anger radiates from Jon. He knows people can be rude. He himself has been rude to Martin before on too many occasions. It makes him even angrier. Martin shouldn't…

“Jon?” The uncertainty in Martin’s voice brings him back to the moment. 

A quick check of his surrendering makes him realize Elias is smirking and Martin is looking at him with wide eyes. He blinks and lets his additional eyes close. They are still too weak to be fully seen, but the glow of them has broken through the barrier between the world that used to be and the one now. 

“I apologize.” Jon picks his plate and makes a hasty retreat to the kitchen. 

He still hears Martin questioning Elias about the power of glowing. Elias chuckles. He finds the whole situation adorable. It would be better if Jon got so frustrated because of him, but he still enjoys the redness on his Archivist's cheeks.

“It seems that emotions have gotten the better of him. His power manifests in many different forms. You have been able to see an effect of it. Sooner or later you will be able to see the cause.”

“Oh. Okay.” Martin accepts it easily. 

He thinks it isn’t that weird. The web he has been finding in his things and the spiders that seem to live in his pockets are a little weirder. Jon has said that the Web is staking its claim on his this way since he spends so much time near the Eye. He likes spiders. But finding several of them in his bag is still an experience.

“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you” Elias interjects.

“Yes?”

“Would you let me kiss you?”

This makes Martin’s thoughts freeze. It’s not that he hasn’t thought of Elias in this way. The man has a certain sharpness to him, hidden under the smart suits but it is always there. But this is supposed to be about Jon only.

“If you oppose…”

“No, no. Yes. I would like to kiss you. It’s just unexpected that you would also want this.” Martin laughs nervously.

Elias scoffs. “I assure you my taste in man is excellent.”

The compliment makes Martin blush. He gets out of his chair and stands in front of Elias. The other man also gets up. They are the same height which makes it a slightly different experience from kissing Jon. Elias is well-experienced and more aggressive than Jon. Martin lets him take control of the kiss. He raises one of his hands to Elias’s shoulder. It feels strange to be able to lean on someone else. 

They part to the sound of a loud intake of breath. Jon observes them without blinking. He has been so focused on ignoring them that the silence finally cued him to turn around and check on them.

“Jon.” Martin’s voice sounds rougher than it has a few minutes ago.

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

He does. With quick steps and trying not to scowl at Elias’s knowing smirk.

“Are you alright?” Martin presses. 

He wants to make sure that he hasn’t crossed any boundaries. He is here for Jon. 

“Yes. I was surprised. You two.” Jon hesitates. Martin has told him to communicate. Even if it means making Elias even more smug. “I liked seeing you two together.”

“Okay. Do you want for us to continue or do you want to join us?”

“I would like to kiss you.”

“Of course.”

Martin untangles himself from Elias and gets closer to Jon. He tips his chin up, smiles warmly, and leans in for a kiss. He tries not to compare this kiss to the one he has shared with Elias. 

When they part he catches Jon’s gaze.

“Good?”

“Yes. I would like to… I would like to kiss Elias.”

Martin steps to the side to let Jon pass. Even in his warm, thick sweater, he looks small compared to both of them. Elias runs his hand along his arm, barely touching the soft material. He stops at Jon's neck. He plays with the hair at the bottom of his skull and smiles when Jon leans into the touch. With his other hand, he traces the scars on his face, letting his fingers circle each of them. Jon watches him, without blinking. Waiting. 

Elias feels just like he did when he first met this creature. Mesmerized. He leans in, lets their lips brush. A taste before he delves in. He deepens the kiss, wanting to map Jon’s mouth. He wants to know this being, this god. He wants to own him, to make him his idol. The knowledge he cannot, that he is too weak when compared to this small man makes him ache so sweetly.

Jon pulls away first. The instinct to breathe is stronger than the knowledge he no longer has to.

Martin gets closer, circles his arms around Jon’s waist. The warmth of him at his back makes him calmer. They are both here, they are his and they are safe. He can feel Micheal in its corridors, playing with some victim. It plans to let it go and catch it again later. Just a part of the fun.

“Where are you, love?” Martin’s breath tickles his ear.

“I am here.” At the unbelieving sound, he can feel against his back he relents. “I checked on Micheal. I wanted to make sure you are all where you are supposed to be.”

“And is that creature where it is supposed to be?” Elias turns his head to the side.

He presses his thumb against the eyelid of one of the hidden eyes. The thin skin that protects it doesn’t hide the flutter of the eye behind it. It moves rapidly, not really asleep but watching things far away. Elias caresses it gently.

“Yes. It is playing hide and seek.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t be like that.” Martin finds the courage to scold his boss’s boss. “It has been a great help. And it cares about Jon.”

It makes Elias look up and catch Martin’s gaze over Jon’s shoulder. 

“It does. It is also something that shouldn't be.”

“And some am I.” Jon pulls at his tie to make him look down. “Just because it got to me first doesn’t mean you should be jealous.”

Jon blinks as surprised as Elias. He hasn’t made the connection. It was from Martin. Martin who is observing Elias, seeing the threads connecting him to them and to other beings. 

“I assure you I am not. I have also left my mark on you, as you remember.”

This time Martin is the surprised one. “You did?”

It’s not like Jon has hidden the eye on purpose. It’s just that Martin has always respected his privacy when they changed and didn’t look. 

“It will be easier if I show you.” He decides. 

He pulls away from them and steps toward the couch. Without much preamble, he pulls his trousers down. He steps out of them. Martin gets closer. His eyes widen when he sees the lines creating the eye. He can instinctively say which ones were made by Elias. 

“Oh. Are those also sensitive?”

“I do not know?” Jon looks at the lines with furrowed brows.

Elias who has also followed them observes them curiously. When Martin reaches out to touch the lines he doesn’t expect Jon’s reaction. Archivist lets out a quiet ‘ah’ and clutches Martin’s shoulder. His legs almost give out. 

“I think that yes they are sensitive.” He tries to sound unruffled.

“Huh.” Martin glances down. He wants to check his suspicion and just like he thought, even though the sounds Jon lets out should be illegal the man himself finds no sexual pleasure in it. “Do you want me to continue?”

“I, no. It feels too intense.”

“Of course.”

“Can I try?” Elias breaks in.

Jon is almost ashamed that he has forgotten about him. Elias doesn’t look offended by being left out. His eyes shine with curiosity. He wants to try this new thing. The occasion to touch his Archivist is a welcome bonus.

“Don’t press too hard.” Jon tells him. His knowledge is strangely limited when it comes to the bonds he has been creating. He wonders how it will feel when the bound touches him. He doesn’t let go of Martin. He relies on him to catch him if it feels like too much. 

Before he would have felt ridiculous standing in his sweater and boxers in the middle of his living room. He shrugs off this thought when he sees the desire in Elias’s eyes. He is happy that he has decided to hold on to Martin. Elias touches him with the tips of his fingers, tracing the scar. It feels like the line joining them suddenly burst open. He can feel Elias, there with him. Looking at the world through so many eyes. Not only his and not only the one pair of silver eyes. They look through all of the eyes. They observe, they know. They know each other and they know others. They are everywhere, everytime and they know. 

They know what they must do to bound Jonah Magnus completely to his beloved. They know how to pull Martin close and not get tangled in the Web surrendering him. They know how the corridors circle each other, how the hallway is longer than the house. 

The connection gets cut off. Not by Martin’s voice, even though he has been trying to get to them for a few minutes. What pulls Jon back and pushes Elias away is the hum. It protects itself. It contains the knowledge of the past world and now it is being filled by this one. It isn’t ready to grasp the Power that is being born. It cannot because that power isn’t here yet. The hum doesn’t seem to notice a carefully waved web gently guiding its way alongside Martin’s voice.

“What was that?” Martin hugs Jon to his chest. 

The fear in his voice is palpable. 

“The bond between us burst open.” Jon tries to explain. 

He feels ill-suited for his skin. There isn’t enough of him inside it. 

But there is also too much of him. He looks up at Elias. The other man has landed on the floor. He is sitting back, clearly ruffled. He is looking at Jon like he too cannot find where he ends and Jonah begins. 

“Okay. Fine. And now? Are you back to yourself?”

“Yes. More or less.” Jon pulls back to look at Martin. “Thank you.”

“We are in this situation because I asked. I feel like I should be apologizing.”

“I wanted to show you.” Jon raises to kiss Martin.

He is met halfway in a soft kiss. A good way to make sure they are alright. When they pull back Jon turns to check on Elias. He is still sitting there, but there is light behind his eyes. He knows who he is. Where he is. He still observes Jon with wonder. He is unashamed of the tent in his trousers, clearly visible in the position he is sitting. The power is still coursing through him. It is so potent and he knows it isn’t even an ounce of what the Archivist has to offer. The thought of feeling it again makes him shudder. 

“I remember I promised you assistance.” Jon muses out loud. 

He checks on Martin’s reaction. The redhead has already noticed Elias’s reaction to the situation and besides feeling bashful he is interested. 

Even though the fear has killed his own excitement he is more than eager to witness.

“If it wouldn't be too much of a problem.” Elias tries to control his voice. It still trembles.

Jon turns to Martin for a quick kiss before he drops to the floor. Neither of the men has expected this. Martin lets out a loud breath while Elias stops breathing altogether. Jon crawls to him on all fours. He doesn’t feel graceful, but judging by the hungry gaze following his every move he is doing well. He kneels between Elias’s spread legs. He moves to pull the sweater off, but Elias catches his arm.

“Keep it on.”

Martin sits back on the couch, watching them with rapt attention. The brand of ownership Elias so desperately wants to put on Jon is laughable when they all belong to the Archivist. But he can understand the appeal.

Jon shrugs and gets to opening Elias’s trousers. He does it quickly. Elias tries to lean in for a kiss, only to be caught by his tie. 

“Not yet.” Jon’s voice makes both Elias and Martin shudder.

There is power backing it. Jon lets go of the tie so he can get the trousers and the boxers out of the way. Elias raises his hips, his eyes never leaving Jon’s. 

He hisses when he feels a hand touching his cock. He wants to look down, to commit the image of Jon’s hand on his cock to his memory. He also doesn't want to miss watching the blush spreading on Jon’s cheeks. It travels down, past his neck, and reaches his collarbone. The sweater obscures the view, making the peak underneath feel like prize. 

Jon runs his hand along Elias’s cock, feeling each vein hidden under the skin. He lowers himself until he has it just in front of his lips. He keeps eye contact all the way down. Finally, he turns his eyes away so he can focus on the task in front of him. 

He nuzzles against the head before letting his tongue out to carefully circle it. He chases the salty taste of precum and commits it to his memory. The smell of sweat and skin fills his senses and makes him that more eager to move further up. He leaves kisses along the way and when he reaches the fly of Elias’s pants he starts the way down. He licks the skin until it is wet enough with his spit he can gently grab his cock without worrying about the burns. He licks all of the fresh precum and then takes inside as much of the cock as he can fit in his mouth. 

He moves his scarred hand around the parts he isn’t ready to reach yet. He pushes his tongue underneath the head, searching for a spot he knows is there. It makes Elias’s breath hitch. 

The man has been trying to keep quiet, observing Jon at work. But with each moment he feels his resolve crumble. His trousers press uncomfortably into his skin, which heightens the pleasure he feels when Jon hums. The vibrations feel electric. He looks up and catches Martin’s gaze. The redhead looks as disheveled as he feels. 

Jon pulls back, leaving only the head inside his mouth. He chases the saltiness, letting his tongue explore the underskin. With his free hand, he traces down and starts gently touching Elias’s balls. He could know what the other man likes, instead he learns by listening to the hitch of breath each time he traces over the veins or makes a certain twist with his hand. 

He knows Elias is close. He lets go of his balls. He focuses on taking more and more of his cock into his mouth. He reaches the point where he can feel the head against the back of his throat. He takes a deep breath and moves even further. 

“Jon” Elias warns him.

He disregards it completely, and moves up until he presses his nose against the carefully trimmed pubic hair. All it takes is for him to swallow and then Elias is coming. Jon waits, swallowing until he is sure that he is nearly finished. Then he pulls back, lets the head of the cock stay in his mouth so he can get the last taste. Once he is sure Elias is finished he pulls back, keeping his mouth carefully closed until he catches the other man's eyes. He opens his mouth to show the cum inside, its salty and bitter taste stored into his memory. He swallows. 

It makes Elias swear a rather old curse. Jon pulls on his tie again, this time to get him closer. He makes sure that Elias can taste himself during their kiss. 

The power that has been cursing between them finally quiets down. It seems spent.

“I believe I have kept my promise.” Jon has forgotten how harsh deepthroating could be for his throat. He swallows, trying to make the pain go away.

“Yes. Your performance has been more than satisfactory.”

Jon snorts. He turns towards Martin, wanting to tell him he hasn’t been forgotten. Instead, he lets out a quiet ‘ah’.

“Sorry.” Martin looks between them, crossing his legs.

Seeing Jon like this has brought back all the desire he felt after seeing him react to the scar. 

“There is nothing to apologize about. Jon is quite spectacular.” Elias assures him.

“Oh, be quiet.” Jon sends him an annoyed look. It looks way too fond to be really scolding. “My offer extends to you. I can help you with this.”

“Really? I would like that. Please.” Martin blushes so hard his ears burn.

Jon just smiles at him. He crawls back to the couch, well aware that Martin has also appreciated it. He can still feel Elias’s gaze on his legs and back. 

“Do you also want me to keep the sweater on?”

“No, no. I would like to see you. All of you.”

Jon is more than happy to tug it off. It has gotten way too hot to stay in it. Sweat has gathered on his back and a bid of it runs down his neck. He pulls the sweater too harshly, which disturbs his braid. When he tosses it away his hair stick in every direction. Martin chuckles. It isn’t exactly the reaction Jon has been hoping for but he smiles back. With a little bit of regret, he gets the band off his hair. He shakes his head, letting them fall into their natural place. He looks back at Martin and finds himself caught in a stare full of adoration. He ducks down, too unused to it to be able to stand it for too long. He moves to get Martin’s cock out. The redhead beats him to it, getting himself out of his trousers. He is wider than Elias. Jon doubts he will be able to get him down his throat today. He is also already hard. 

“Can I... “Martin hesitates. “Can I come on your face?”

Jon blinks before nodding. He’s never tried this before, everyone too happy to use his mouth but he decides that if he is going to try something new he wants it with Martin. Elias amusement feels too much like judgment. Fortunately, the other man doesn’t say anything and just watches the pair.

Jon sits back. He licks his lips. Martin starts moving his hand along his cock. He gathers the precum already gathered at his head and tries to use it to smooth the way. Before he can, Jon catches his hand. He pulls his closer to his mouth and circles one of the fingers with his mouth. He tastes Martin and lets himself focus on the taste for a second. His mind finds all of the differences between him and Elias, catalogs them at the back of his mind. He licks across his hand, making sure to leave it wet. He pulls back and sits back again. Martin swallows watching him with hooded eyes. He starts jacking off, just the way he likes. The twist of his wrist at the end, the attention to the glands. 

Jon observes and keeps it for later use. He opens his mouth and pushes his tongue out. He is ready to take everything Martin has to give. The redhead’s breath quickens. He is letting out quiet moans and just before he comes he lets out a long sigh. 

Jon catches most of it in his mouth. He swallows but he isn’t quick enough. The rest lads on his cheeks and his eyelashes. He closes his eyes to stop it from getting inside. He opens them once he is sure Martin has finished. With his cock softening and flush all over him he looks well spent. Jon raises his hand to his face to gather the cum. Before he can he feels Elias behind him. The man has gotten back together when he hasn’t been paying attention to him. Only his tousled hair betrays that something has happened between them. 

Elias reaches out and wipes Jon’s cheek. He presses his stained fingers against Jon’s lips which he readily accepts. He sucks the cum off them. He takes in the pleasure felt by both Elias and Martin at seeing him lick those long fingers. Then he focuses on his own enjoyment of a job well done. 

Once he is more or less clean the moment is broken. Elias straightens up and looks down at them both. Martin takes it as a signal to also make himself more presentable.

“Unfortunately I cannot stay the night. I hope the dinner has been up to your liking.” 

Jon would roll his eyes if he had any energy left for it. He wants to take a shower and sleep. Maybe even cuddle a little, but he would never say it out loud.

“Yes, yes. Don’t slam the door on your way out.” He dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

Elias smiles clearly amused. 

“You are leaving already.” Martin looks unhappily at him. He has been trying to figure out where Elias would fit in their cuddling session.

“Yes, I do have to arrive at the Institute early in the morning. After all, we are getting ready for a battle.”

“You are too generous with saying 'we'.”

“I do have to make sure Prentiss doesn’t get out of the Archives, don’t I?”

Jon hums, but his heart isn’t in it. He tries not to wonder what will happen if he fails tomorrow. If Elias’s precautions turn out to be needed.

“You won’t fail.” Elias pets his head. He only smiles wider when his hand gets swatted away. “But you will rest easier if you know there is a failsafe, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes.” 

Martin gets up from the couch. He reaches a hand out to Jon, to help him stand up. Once they are on the same level he pushes forward and gives Elias a chaste kiss. 

“Good luck then.”

Elias just nods. He doesn’t look expectantly at Jon, but the Archivist still feels the gaze trailing down his spine. He also goes for a kiss but makes it longer. When they finally part he is holding the lapels of Elias’s suit tightly.

“Make sure it goes well and you will get what you want.”

Elias smirks down at him.

“I already have.” 

He gently pries Jon’s hands off him. He nods at Martin and moves to the entrance. He pushes his shoes on, takes his cloak, and opens the door.

“Sleep well, my boys.” 

He doesn’t slam the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this a filler episode? maybe. was it worth it? of course. I hope no one is traumatized by me writing smut. have a nice day everyone. I will see myself out


	11. Chapter 11

The dread Jon has felt during the weekend only intensifies on Monday morning. Martin keeps shooting him concerned glances. It’s not unwarranted. Since they untangled themselves and gotten up Jon has barely said a word. They took turns in the shower and even in a fresh sweater and comfortable pants the Archivist looks bad. 

He is pale and his eyes seem to track some impossible shapes. They move rapidly from one corner of the room to the next. They can't stay in one place too long. He is looking at something far away, this Martin knows. 

He aches for his boyfriend. He would do anything to take upon himself some of the weight that rests on Jon’s fragile shoulders. Instead, all he can do is get their breakfast ready and quietly hover over him. Jon has told him he needed trust. So that’s what Martin is going to give him. Unlimited trust. 

He still puts his foot down when it comes to self-care. He can trust Jon to take care of the world and those close to them. But he has a nagging feeling at the back of his head that under no circumstance should he trust Jon to actually take care of himself. 

Jon has almost broken his cup of coffee and hasn’t even looked at his breakfast. Everything reminds him of silver worms and Sasha’s scream. The scream he only got to hear long after his assistant was gone. 

He feels the heat emanating from the spiral on his arm and the gentle throb of the eye on his leg. Martin slowly extends his hand to catch Jon’s fingers. He acts as his boyfriend has turned into a very spooked, cornered animal. Jon hates that he might be right. He lets his fingers uncurl from the mug and lets Martin hold his hand. He feels Martin’s leg nudging his and he tries to smile. It comes out more like a grimace. His mouth pulls back too much, showing his teeth. He wonders which power should he thank that he doesn’t growl. 

“You promised to trust me, Jon. And I know that you won’t let anything happen to us. Even if you don’t trust yourself, you can believe in mine belief in you. We will be alright.” Martin assures him with a small smile.

It doesn’t reach his eyes, no, they are too worried. Their normal blue looks almost dull. Martin shouldn't look like this. Jon curses the knowledge that he has to put his boyfriend through this. To make sure he is strong enough to stand on his own. making Martin ready to face the Fears on his own. He wants to keep him here, safe and cared for. But he can’t. And it eats at him constantly.

Martin squeezes his fingers. He believes in Jon even if he is worried about him. He tries to send this trust, this warm, safe feeling that envelopes him each time he looks at the Archivist. He doesn’t know how to express it with words only. It is too big, too beautiful. His smile turns genuine when he sees a slight blush rising on Jon’s cheeks. He feels like he has succeeded.

“I know, I know. I trust you.” Jon ducks his head so the redness of his cheeks won’t be too prominent.

Martin has braided his hair again so there is no chance to hide behind them. He curses himself for falling for the puppy eyes the redhead has sent his way this morning.

“Now, do you want to get to the Institute early or should we…?

“Early.” Jon interrupts him. He is caught off-guard by his own abruptness. “Sorry. I know we should get there early.”

“Of course.” Martin lets his thumb caress Jon’s skin. His moves are slow but sure. He wants Jon to know he is there. No matter what. “We will leave as soon as you take at least one bite of that sandwich. There is no use fighting a monster on an empty stomach.”

“I no longer need normal food. I think.”

“And now isn’t the best time to find out.”

“No, it’s not.” Jon relents and takes the bite. 

It tastes like ash. He swallows.

“Now we can go.” He lets go of Martin and gets up.

He doesn’t miss the worried look. Even though Martin does his best to be cheery and assure Jon it will be alright he isn’t that difficult to read. The fact that he tries leaves a bittersweet feeling that almost chokes Jon. To have someone caring for him is still a novelty, no matter in which world it happens. 

They gather their things and soon are out of the door. Jon makes sure to lock his flat, his mind swirling into a circle of what-ifs. What if Prentiss sends someone here? She hasn’t done this before, but what if? What if she uses her worms to contaminate the place? What if she decides to leave a trap as a goodbye gift. He turns his keys twice just to make sure the doors are secure. He curses himself for not having any photo in his flat. He can’t ask Elias to watch over it while he is away. He wonders if he should keep on observing it while they are away. It would drain his focus. He can’t do this now. He will have to be careful when they get back. 

Not if, when. Martin waits for him, his presence a steady reminder that Jon still has a chance to get this right.

* * *

London is cold and damp this morning. Jon pulls the coat he has stolen from Elias closer, letting the smell of the cologne calm him. His fingers brush against Martin’s and he feels enough courage to let their fingers intermingle. The streets are almost empty. No one will pay them too much attention. 

Besides, Jon reasons, it’s not like it would matter. He no longer has to obey those stupid rules set by humans. Martin looks surprised by his forwardness which means it was worth it. The redhead tries not to show how much it means to him, but he stands taller and walks with a spring in his step. He feels exalted by the opportunity to walk hand in hand with his boyfriend. Even if they are marching to a battle. 

Jon hides his smile in the collar of his coat. The lull of walking makes him calmer. The running thoughts slow down until he can just focus on the rhythm of their steps. 

“What do you think about going on a vacation?” Martin asks out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, after all this,” Martin makes a vague gesture with his free hand. “Is over. We could go sightseeing. Or to the country. Maybe somewhere abroad.”

Jon ponders over it. A week or two of just being with Martin sounds like heaven. No more worry, just them talking about cows, spiders, or just stories from their lives.

“We could take Elias with us. Maybe Micheal, if it wants.” It sounds almost hesitant. Martin finally looks at Jon, with an uncertain hope written all over his face.

“Then it wouldn't be a vacation from all this. We would be bringing it with us.”

“Micheal doesn’t want to fight you, I think. It is more…” Martin hesitates. “Domesticated?”

“Martin!” Jon is torn between laughing and being scandalized. “It is a monster. Not a cat.”

“A domesticated monster.” Martin acknowledges. He too smiles.

It is a real one, one of those that bring his dimples out. 

“And we would have to stand Elias’s complaints about it.”

“I have never seen the two of them together. It may be worth watching.”

“It would be a disaster.” Jon shakes his head. “Don’t tell Elias you have even proposed it.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Jon lets out a sight. A spark in his eyes betrays his amusement. “To be fair I haven’t seen the two of them in the same room either.”

“See!” Martin swings their joined hands a little. “It could be worth it.”

“I will think about it. But be ready to stay in one of the most expensive apartments out there. Elias won’t agree to anything else.”

“I think I can agree with this condition.”

Jon squeezes his hand. 

“You say this now.”

“Well, if we decide to stay in a cabin somewhere in the woods there won’t be too many five-star hotels to choose from.” Martin sounds proud of his idea.

“That is true.” Jon shakes his head. “Let us get back to this once everything is taken care of.”

“Of course.”

They continue to walk in companionable silence. The contentment Jon feels lasts until they get to the Underground station. All the thoughts about a vacation and free time with his loved ones go away.

There are more people here. Would he notice a living hive getting near them? Would he be able to react fast enough? He isn’t sure. He has no  ** knowledge ** about it. It bothers him. To make sure their plans can take place he needs them both alive. Without Martin, it won’t make sense. The world won’t make sense. He needs to keep him safe. The Spider isn’t secure enough. He needs to  ** know ** .

Then he hears a knock. He doesn’t look around. He knows it is coming from somewhere inside him. It’s not a sound of someone's knuckles against a wooden or metal surface. It is a sharp sound of something wanting to get inside. He knows what it is. It is louder than ever before, his worry making it overbearing. Not using his powers now seems stupid. It is there, it is him just ignoring a part of himself. Overlooking it seems like second nature to him, one that sometimes makes him forget what he is. 

He squeezes Martin’s fingers to ground himself. He has to remember why he is here, why he is doing it. He takes a deep breath. The cold air fills his lungs and as he exhales it doesn’t puff into smoke leaving his nose.

There is no air in the place that welcomes him. It isn’t even a place. It is a state. The hum of his power, of his knowledge no longer accompanies him. 

He is the hum. 

He  ** knows ** . 

The knock was just a sign. A reminder. He acknowledges it. He takes another breath in. The train arrives at their station. He knows everything about it. He knows everything about the man holding his hand. He knows everyone who is also coming inside. All their secrets, their wants, and beliefs. He knows those that came before them. Their ancestors, those who have built the station, those who used it.

Martin is looking at him. His gaze doesn’t burn. It is like a gentle breeze on heated skin. All his choices and decisions culminating into this one impossible man. Jon looks up. All of his eyes concentrate on Martin. He is leading Jon to one of the free seats. 

The factory it has been made in no longer exists. Workers that took care of the machines that had built it have moved away. The fabric covering it is new. It has been renovated recently. The person taking care of it still works the same job even though they hate it. 

Outside of the window, a bird flies by. Its wings move with a perfect speed for it to fly up, up over the train and the buildings. It is carrying worms for its children. Not silver worms, no just normal black hairy worms. They taste delicious. At least to you birds. Jon observes the feeling of hunger and the care the bird has for its youngsters. 

“Jon?” Martin repeats his name like it is something sweet.

Like just saying it brings him pleasure. Jon knows it does. To say his name and have Jon look up is like tasting the best chocolate Martin has ever bought. It makes something inside him quiet. This dark place has made him think he would always be lonely and unseen. To be watched by those green eyes makes him think he is in the right place in the universe.

“Yes?”

“You spaced out. I was worried if something had happened.”

“No, it’s fine.” It’s not true. Not enough. “I decided it is time to  ** know ** .”

“During our train ride?” Martin tries not to sound too anxious.

“It was the only way to quench my worry.”

“Oh. That makes sense. So you are no longer worried about us?” Martin tries to sound encouraging.

He isn’t sure what Jon means by knowing. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ aren’t apparent to him, but he tries to make up for it with his trust or just encouragement.

“I don’t have to. Approximately 500 worms are trying to get into the Archives. With the use of fire extinguishers, the three of you will be able to take care of them in under two hours. Jane Prentiss has another 200 worms buried inside her. They have chewed their way inside her. They control her as much as she controls them. She wants to kill us all, but she wants me especially. She will come after me once she sees me. She doesn’t care about the order in which she kills us. The hive wants us dead. But like any other animal, she can sense danger. She knows I have the strongest connection to the Eye. She wants to take care of me first. She has been thinking of changing me into a hive. But no, too much knowledge. I would never be able to just join them. I am a lost cause. It’s better to kill me. She isn’t sure about the rest of you. There will be nothing sweeter than parading the Eye’s own as one of her soldiers. But you too may be useless to her. She isn’t sure. I know though. You are mine. And I will look into her. I can almost sense her now. I will see each fiber of her being. And I will untangle it. But not now. I despise the filth. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be filled by it. I don’t

Want

To

Know

it.”

Suddenly Jon pulls back. He is on a train. Martin is there. He is holding his hand. Prentiss is close to the Institute but they will arrive before her. So will Sasha and Tim. The Flame that accompanies them burns so brightly the Eye has to squint. It helps him. He can resurface in the here and now. 

“You don’t have to Jon. Jon? Jon, are you here?” Martin’s worried face fills his vision.

“Yes. I just. I have never explained this, have I?”

Martin looks relieved. He shakes his head. His hair falls around him and Jon is reminded of the red and golden fields of wheat he has seen during his long summers back in high school. The setting sun made them look rusted and almost bloody. 

“I  ** know  ** everything. I do not have access to it all the time, but I would need to look. To only look and witness. To talk with you I need to slam the door. And sometimes I go too deep.” Jon tries to paint a picture of how his mind looks. “All the powers are here.” He taps his head. “But not all of them are welcome.”

Martin takes it in well. Jon doesn’t have to sacrifice even an ounce of his consciousness to notice the Web creating another connection between both of them. The Mother now knows more about him than she has ever before. She will mull over this knowledge, but for now, she is calm. 

He seems to be on her side in the ‘let’s not change the world’ fight. He wonders if she also knows how those bonds go both ways. The more she ties Martin to her the more she is connected to Jon, the more he can read her. He will find out soon enough. They still have a meeting to schedule.

“This is our station.” Martin notices. His voice is quiet, barely hearable over the sound of the train coming to a stop.

He doesn’t say anything up until they are out on the station.

“So each time you want to know something you have to pull away from yourself?”

“Yes.” Jon makes sure their hands are still connected.

The feeling of calm his trip into his power has left him with starts to waver quickly. He presses against the hum so it doesn’t start knocking again. Now is the time for action. It ripples but calms when the spiral gently pulses. The Madness and the Knowledge intermingle inside him. He pushes the door closed. The eye helps him. 

“Although most often the knowledge I need is so small that I only need to…” He looks for the right word. “Meditate over it.”

Martin guides them towards the Institute. His steps are far longer than Jon’s but he keeps a slow pace. 

“I hope it won’t put you in danger.”

“Pardon?”

Martin keeps on looking ahead, but his jaw is set.

“I hope you won’t shut down when you will be facing Prentiss.”

Jon’s brow furrow. He doesn’t understand Martin’s reaction. He has used his power around him before. 

Then it catches up with him. Martin doesn’t know this. He hasn’t accompanied him inside his mind like Elias. Neither has he felt it like Micheal. 

To see your loved one suddenly go silent and unresponsive just before a big battle must have shaken him. Jon reaches out toward the hum and affirms his assumptions. The Madness seems to laugh at him.

“It is alright Martin. I have done this before.” This time Jon squeezes his fingers. “I will be fine.”

The redhead hums. He doesn’t look or sound convinced. But he doesn’t fight. He knows he has to trust Jon on this. 

The sight of the Institute is both welcome and dreadful. It stands tall, beautiful, and elegant like always. Jon has a sudden flash of a tower taking his place, a tower so high it could almost touch the Eye in the sky. He blinks and it is gone. He pays it no mind. A picture from another world, his knowledge fighting the world that no longer suited it. The discomfort is palpable but he has bigger problems. He has no time for a headache. The spiral feeds on this contradiction, lessening the pain. Still, the knock he has felt before becomes a heavy pound. Fortunately, they reach the Institute before Martin notices anything. 

* * *

Inside they move fast. There are a few people already there, busy with their morning routines. Martin greets some of the familiar faces, while Jon makes a beeline toward the elevator leading to the Archives. He has no time for niceness. Once they reach the basement he picks up one of the additional fire extinguishers and gives it to Martin. 

“Just make sure not to lose it.” He tries to joke but his tone falls flat. 

“I have another one under my desk.” Martin assures him. 

“Hi, boss. Martin” Tim welcomes them cheerfully.

“Tim. Find yourself a fire extinguisher. Sasha, you too.” Jon instructs them.

“Woah. I was hoping for a chat about your weekend before getting to the business.” Tim grins at Martin and raises his eyebrows.

Martin goes red, but he doesn’t fall for the ruse. “Later. Jon is right. We will need them.”

Sasha observes them carefully. She drops her bag near her desk and takes her own extinguisher. She has noticed how close Jon and Martin stand. She has seen how Martin’s back straightened when he talked about their boss. She thinks she knows that things have changed between them. Jon whips his head to look at her. 

For a second, for just a flash of a quarter of a second, she could swear that she saw more than one pair of eyes watching her. They are gone and the only, green pair is looking at her with intent.

“Sasha?” Tim’s gentle probing brings her back.

She has been clutching the red extinguisher so tightly her fingers have turned white.

“You will accompany me to my office,” Jon tells them, now certain everyone is listening to him. “I will break a wall behind which a colony of worms is waiting. You will use your extinguishers to kill them. The living hive, also known as Jane Prentiss, will shortly appear. When I tell you to run you will. You will use one of the rooms that has a lock to hide. If it turns out to be too much you will use a yellow door that will appear. I will take care of the hive. Since we will sound the alarm in a minute Elias will be well aware that we need help. Once I am done with Prentiss we will get help.”

“One question.” Tim raises his hand.

“Yes, Tim?”

“Why won’t he help us with her?”

“Because the Archives are our responsibility. They are ours. It isn’t his territory.” 

“Okay, another question.”

“Yes?”

“What should we do if you fail?”

“Tim!” Martin looks at him scandalized.

“What? It is a possibility!”

“If I fail you will kill as many worms as you can with the extinguishers.”

“And Prentiss?”

“You can try to use it on her. In the worst-case scenario, you will use the Flame.”

“Sweet.” 

Jon knows how Tim has been practicing. The two days he spent with Sasha were great and all. But he had to hide inside the bathroom to practice. It felt like he was a teenager again, hiding his cigarettes from his mum. Sasha found the whole situation too amusing to tell him she knew what he was doing.

“It is the worst-case scenario, Tim. This place is filled with paper. If you set anything on fire even though you didn’t have to I will make sure you suffer.”

It sounds like an idle threat. Tim is almost sure that this new, weird Jon wouldn't do anything to him. Just like the normal Jon. He is too much of a softy.

“Fine, fine.” What Tim isn’t sure about is Sasha. Her gaze once again scolds him without her even opening her mouth.

“I will accompany Jon with punishment.” She adds.

“Two to one? Not fair.” The whining is mostly for a joke and it works.

Jon huffs an amused breath while Sasha rolls her eyes.

“We will be alright, Jon. You can count on us.” Martin assures his boyfriend. “We will follow the plan.”

“Fine. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“As we'll ever be.” Sasha interrupts Tim.

* * *

It doesn’t go according to plan. Jon tries not to blame Tim, he really does. It is not his fault that the wall collapses and buries Jon under it. The worms haven’t eaten enough. A strong punch makes everything crumble down. 

Tim lets out something that sounds like inappropriate laughter when Jon falls to the ground. Fortunately, nothing solid has hit his head but he still is disoriented for a few long seconds. 

He hears a ‘get him’ from somewhere behind himself. A strong arm catches him around the waist and he is pulled away. Tim and Sasha use the extinguishers like fire throwers. The worms are slower inside the Institute walls, but still fast enough to have them fall back. 

Martin half-carries Jon which leaves him vulnerable to attacks. Tim tries to make up for it and stands between them and the oncoming wave of worms. Sasha is by his side, her eyes wide open. She  ** knows  ** that more worms are coming. That they don’t have enough juice in the extinguishers to take care of all of them. 

Tim curses and tries to psyche himself up for the first use of his powers. He throws his extinguisher away when he hears a clicking sound and the foam stops coming out. Sasha waves her own, now being the sole guardian of their whole group.

“Give me a second!” Tim shouts over the sound of worms crawling their way.

They are rather noisy for a group of beings that make no hearable sound. 

Sasha nods but her focus is elsewhere. She almost trips over Jon’s leg when Martin stops. She doesn’t have time to look behind her. One of the worms jump her way and she uses the extinguisher as a shield. It bounces off, but while she isn’t spewing foam at other worms they use it as an occasion to move even closer. She starts the extinguisher again, but there isn’t much left inside. 

“Come on, come on.” Tim keeps on chanting from behind her.

He is trying so hard to bring out the flame. He hates those warms. Hates them for trying to hurt his friends. Hates them for attacking the Institute, the place where his family is at. He hates Prentiss. But it isn’t enough. 

He curses again. The anger he feels at himself bigger than any other. He feels the heat starting to envelop his skin when Martin suddenly pulls him back. He lands inside a dark corridor, soon joined by Sasha. Jon is already there, lying on the floor. Martin slams the door shut and quickly moves to his boyfriend. He lowers himself to the floor and carefully touches Jon.

“Jon? Jon?” Martin shakes the Archivist. “Come on Jon. We need you now.”

“It seems he hasn’t been able to foresee everything.” Micheal sounds amused.

Too amused in Martin’s opinion. It has appeared from one of the mirrors hung on the walls. It’s tall frame almost reaches the ceiling. Tim pulls back from it, almost crushing Sasha lying behind him.

The creature’s words do have an effect though. Jon makes a strangled sound before his eyes open. He looks around frantically.

“Not to be an asshole or anything, but where the hell are we?” Tim clears his throat. His voice sounds too high.

“Inside my corridors, of course.” Comes the ever helpful answer.

“Great. Good. Why?”

“It is safe here. “ Jon’s voice is weak. “I hoped you could stay at the Institute, but it seems you should stay here. It is the safest place.”

“Ah, thank you, Archivist.” Micheal reaches its long hand and helps Jon stand.

The Archivist looks down at Martin, still crouching on the floor. Then he looks at his assistants.

“I will be back once I am done. Stay here.” He assures them.

With a little bit of hesitation, he bends forward and leaves a kiss on Martin’s forehead. Just like he expected a grumbled ‘no kiss for us?’ accompanies him when he leaves the corridors. Sasha’s fond sigh makes him smile. 

Micheal comes with him. The creature pulled by the strings tying it to the Archivist doesn’t look too worried. Its smile is as wide as ever. Its teeth look too sharp to be human. It somehow makes Jon feel better.

* * *

The Archives look that much different. The army of worms blankets not only the floor but also the walls and the desks. They are looking for a place to nest. To leave their eggs so their offspring can feed on the fear not belonging to their god. 

It is sacrilegious. It is wrong. It isn’t their territory. The Eye has resided here even before Jonah Magnus. It belongs to It. Each book, each statement is just another proof of possession. It looks over the destruction of its temple dispassionately.

Jon feels revolution at its reaction. He feels anger and spite. He feels even though the being that is supposed to be his god is silent and unmoving. It is also his terrain and if the Eye doesn’t want to act in its defense he will. 

The worms crawl around slowly but once they catch the smell of a living being their intent turns murderous. They seem to focus on Jon, each of them knowing where he is from the others. He has been the main target from the start. He needs to be killed.

“There is a portal in the tunnels. Destroy it.” Jon's voice is sure. Micheal leaves him with a chuckle. 

Its long fingers squeeze his arm and it disappears behind another door.

“Jane Prentiss. You are here.” It is not a question. They both know it is true. “If you want to destroy the Archives you will have to go through me.”

He stands tall and sure. He is so much more than Jon Sims. He is the Archivist. He is the Archive. He is the one being that has gathered a whole world into himself, a world of dying gods and tragedies. He carries them all and he  ** knows ** .

“Destroy it?” A voice answers him. It belongs to a woman but the creature that uses it is no longer human enough to be called such.

It raises from the floor, the worms seemingly merging into it. Most of its face has been eaten by them. They crawl from her eye socket and go inside its mouth. Their whiteness is a stark contrast with the purple of the creature's skin. A half-decomposed corpse stalks towards Jon with slow strides. The skin left on its chest is pulled taunt. Behind its protruding ribs, a heart can be seen. There are no lungs, the creature doesn’t need them to breathe. The worms do it instead. But it has to pump the blood for them. 

They have crawled inside its heart a long time ago, but now each time one of them leaves the organ it can feel it. It feels like a child leaving its mother to never be seen again. They all belong inside Jane. But it cannot contain them all. It wants to make a world that keeps its children safe. 

“Your Archives are already destroyed.” It half-sings.

It is the song of the worms. The song on creatures that create something bigger than themselves. Creatures that cannot live without others. It is sure of its victory. Soon it will crawl up and bring the whole Institute into ruin. Soon even the Head of the institute will be another of its prey. 

Jon feels a pull towards it. The idea of witnessing it all, of seeing the Magnus Institute in a different state than it used to be. Even the Eye wouldn't complain that much. It would be something new. Elias has been its heart for so long. Its air felt stale. It wanted something new. It got Jon. To see how far he would go it would let him do anything he wanted. 

The madness of this idea doesn’t sit right with him. It itches at the back of his throat when he swallows. It isn’t the right kind of madness. 

Suddenly he starts clawing at his throat. The thing is still there. It is inside his throat. The idea that makes him want to vomit. He starts coughing violently. 

Jane laughs and laughs. It isn’t a sound as much as a wave going over the worms surrendering them. 

Jon bends in two, trying to get that damn thing out of his throat. Tears come to his eyes and he coughs again. 

It doesn’t work. It starts to suffocate him, spreading across his throat and mouth. Saliva gathers over his tongue. He spits it out and coughs again. It turns to retching. He doesn’t have time for it. He reaches inside with his marked hand. His gag reflex acts up at the press of his fingers but he pushes through it. He takes a breath in through his nose. Then he feels it. 

Wriggling around, an idea that has taken shape. He grabs it. His fingers clench shut on it and he doesn’t let go. He pulls it out and it drags. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look until it is out. He throws it to the ground and there it is. A worm. A silver worm crawled up his throat. 

Prentiss stops laughing. It looks almost unsure. It thought it got him. It thought it had found a new place for its worms to grow. 

Jon stands up. His throat feels raw, but it won’t stop him. It is time to act.

“You have accomplished nothing.” His voice is devoid of emotions. They have no place in a state of pure knowledge. “You are an unwelcome guest here. And now you will leave.”

The creature growls. It makes its whole frame shake like it's going to fall apart. But no worms fall, they are buried too deep.

“Why? You are just waiting to be gobbled up.” The worms that have been pooling around his legs suddenly surge forward.

They don’t touch him. He is no longer there. He is next to it, next to the hive that connects all of the worms. The creature doesn’t have enough vocal cords left to make a believable yelp. It wants to attack again, to send another order. But it cannot. It is mesmerized. 

It observes the Archivist with its only human eye. It doesn’t know where to look. There are so many eyes watching it. They all watch it and the worms around them. And it knows that those eyes see them. See all of them. They know about their bond and can read it like an open book. The intimate feeling of being known suddenly feels dirty. No longer the consciousness of Jane Prentiss is connected to many other small creatures. No, there is an other, a third one, a voyeur. No one wants it there, it tries to push him out. But he is unmoving. 

No matter how many worms throw themselves on him, he just stays there. The creature tries to reach out for him, to touch him and destroy him with worms closest to it. He lets it touch him. The pang of joy and sweet victory soon turns sour. It no longer has enough neurons to send a message between its skin and its brain. The worms do not know touch as it does. They do not register that something is wrong. 

The surface they are touching should be solid. It shouldn't mold itself around the caricature of a hand the creature has. But it does. It pulls its hand forward, but then suddenly expels it. The quick contact turns out to be enough for the effect to take place. The hive has been attacked. The worms that have been its sole companions freeze before suddenly turning upon it. 

They no longer create passages, connected by a peculiar force. They start to devour. They tear at the flesh, tear at themselves. Each worm that comes into contact with them joins in the frenzy. The creature screams. Its voice is good enough for it. It screams and tries to control its parts. The worms around them move to help it, to protect their queen. The virus isn’t picky. It jumps from one worm to another. They start munching on the creature from outside. Those further away eat those closer. Each wants a piece. The scream quiets down. In the following silence, only the rustling sound of moving worms is heard. 

The number of them falls with each passing second and soon there is only silence. 

“Oh, Archivist.” Micheal sounds delighted.

It stands next to its door, observing Jon and his eyes. It has felt the pull of its patron, but seeing the result is almost too much. It laughs and closes in on the small Archivist. He fits nicely in its arms, even though it can feel him being so much more. He is pressing on it, on the Spiral and the Eye. He is pulling Web’s strings. He is there but he is also everywhere else and it is simply delightful. It pulls away a little, so it can bow and kiss him. A kiss for a princess to wake up. It chuckles again. 

Jon lets his other eyes close. He deepens the kiss, pushing himself up so Micheal has to move back. Their kiss tastes like his morning coffee and that strange flavor Micheal has. It is a good victory kiss. 

“Let’s bring them out.” Jon takes a step back.

He has grown pale during his fight, but the not so human contact has brought fresh blood into his cheeks. He clears his throat and runs his fingers down his coat. He has forgotten to take it off before. Now there are a few holes at the bottom of it. He knows Elias will be delighted to buy him a new one. He feels a pang of sadness at the thought of letting this one go. 

He can feel the sting in the place that the worm has bitten into his flesh. It reached his leg, tore through his sock, and buried deep. It managed to travel all the way up. He blames not noticing it on the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hasn’t even felt pain until now.

“Is it done?” Tim’s voice brings him out of his head.

His assistants are plastered to one of the hall’s walls. They are still clutching their extinguishers. 

“Yes.” It’s Sasha who answers him.

If asked she wouldn't be able to tell them how she knows.

“We will need a cleaning team then.” Tim nods towards the center, where Jon is standing. 

Most of the worms are gathered around him. The pile left by Jane Prentiss is as high as the desk it is sitting next to. 

“Yes. We can leave now. Police will take some time to send someone here from the Section.” Jon agrees easily. They have won. The Archives are safe.

He looks between Martin and Micheal. They both are watching him carefully. He wonders if he has projected his want to curl up with them on a couch or they know him so well. 

“Jon,” Martin calls to him with a hopeful smile. 

Jon goes willingly. He has to step over the white corpses. He takes off the coat and leaves it hanging over one of the cleanest chairs. It feels soiled by the worms. 

“So what do we tell to… well anyone?” Tim lets his shoulders relax. They have risen so high they have been touching his ears. 

He doesn’t look too crestfallen over the fact he hasn’t gotten to use his new powers. He did omit the fact that those powers accumulated to make the water in the sink slightly warmer. He has been hoping that in a stressful situation he would be able to unlock some hidden potential. A wall of worms coming his way made him put that thought back on the shelf.

“Nothing.”

“I know. I mean I know we won’t be going into detail about this but there will be a fire crew here and police. So what do we tell them?”

“That we have been attacked by a being named Jane Prentiss.” Jon hesitates. “Leave that one to the police. Paramedics don’t need to know that.”

“What did you mean sectioned?” Sasha’s brow furrow. She is looking at Jon with wide-open eyes. Gathering information seems the most important thing for her now they are safe.

“A special unit that takes care of special cases. Basira and Daisy will be assigned here.” 

“Of course you know that.” Tim shakes his head.

He mostly looks amused. Maybe a little shaken by the whole experience. No one can prove he is leaning against the wall because his knees are too weak to stand.

“Once they are here we can talk openly about this. Not about me though.” Jon winces at the memory of Daisy’s knife at his throat.

“Why?” Martin notices his reaction. He is almost too well attuned with the Archivist. Jon wonders when he will start to regret it. 

“They may want to lock me up. Or kill me. Probably they would target all of us.” He tries to explain.

“So no snitching to the police ladies. Got you.” Tim nods.

There is a sound coming from the entrance to the Archives. An elevator opens and voices can be heard. The firefighters have arrived. Jon turns to Micheal.

“Wait for us at home.”

“Of course.” The being disappears behind the yellow door. 

The chaos left in the Archives makes it tingle but it knows that there will be time to gloat. It knows the spiral on Jon’s arm is pulsing with pleasure, doubled by the apparent displeasure of the eye.

“Is anyone here?” They hear someone calling.

“In here!” Jon answers. He moves so he can talk to the people coming for them.

He doesn’t take into consideration his own state. He wavers and only Martin’s strong hand keeps him up.

“Let us handle this, Jon,” Martin assures him.

The Archivist nods. He hasn’t even noticed how tired he is. The bite on his leg starts to itch unpleasantly. Even the spiral isn’t strong enough. Its pulses don’t make him warm. He starts to shiver and feels incredibly grateful when Martin hugs him. He is short enough to fit nicely into his arms. With barely open eyes he watches Sasha talking to the firefighters and later paramedics. They are escorted out through the elevators. Jon sees more people coming down through the emergency stairs and wonders how many will stomp through his Archives. 

He would feel surprised that Elias greets them only when they leave the building if he wasn’t so tired. The man looks displeased and a quick check makes Jon aware that he has been denied access to his own Institute. It sounds absurd to both of them, but the tall man guarding the entrance isn’t moved. 

He doesn’t have to worry though. Any murderous plots leave Elias’s mind once he sees Jon. Even half-carried by Martin, covered in grime left by the worms and the wall collapsing on him, Jon looks like the best thing he has ever seen. His additional eyes are closed, but the light emanating from his green ones is almost blinding. Jon blinks slowly, barely conscious, and too out of it to appreciate the poetics Elias keeps waxing about him in his mind. 

Martin brings them closer to Elias, but a paramedic stops them. They want to look over Jon. To make sure nothing bad has happened. Maybe even take him to a hospital. Elias can’t take this anymore. He steps in.

“This won’t be needed. They are both alright. I will take care of them for now.” He tells the paramedic. 

His voice isn’t backed by static, nothing this simple. It is a statement of truth that the woman in front of him has no choice but to accept. Martin watches the process of her hearing the words, mulling over them, and then accepting them as god-given truth. She nods and lets them go.

He would be more amazed if he also wasn’t almost too tired to stand.

The emotional roller coaster cost him more than he had expected.

“Come. I have parked nearby.” Elias takes his arm and leads them away from the crowd. 

He takes Jon’s other side and together they carry him to the car. Martin gets in the backseat with him and cradles him in his lap.

“Micheal is waiting for us at Jon’s place.” He informs Elias.

There is a quiet war inside Elias. He wants to spite the other being, but one look at his back seat tells him it won’t be welcome. Especially now.

“I know the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick question: should I continue writing here after we are done with the next chapter or start a new part of the series? how do you guys prefer it? I know long fanfics can scare people off bu a series with over 200k word count is juuust fine (not speaking from experience, ofc)  
> 


	12. chptr 12

Micheal greets them at the door. It opens the door to the flat when he hears them approaching. It leans out, its mouth splitting like a wound to show rows and rows of teeth. 

Its face falls the moment it notices the barely conscious Jon leaning strongly into Elias. Martin waves at it, happy to see it's safe. Micheal responds with a wave of its own. Its fingers reflect the light coming from the corridor leading to the flat. It steps back and lets them in. 

Its thin lips nearly disappear when it twists its mouth into an unhappy frown. Its eyes do not move from Jon, only once does it glance at Martin to make sure he is in good shape. It wonders if it’s the Watcher’s fault. The Archivist has been fine when they parted ways at the Institute. Yet the worry radiating from the man feels genuine and if there is one thing Micheal knows it is the smell of a lie. 

It doesn’t care its murderous intent has been noted. Elias has looked at it for a second too long and it picked on his apprehension. He stands straight, his arm secured around Jon's waist. Staking his claim even though Micheal knows it is just posturing. What matters is the slight frame clutching Elias. 

Jon raises his head from its place next to Elias’s neck to look at Micheal. His eyes soften and his lips move up in that little sardonic smile. He looks exhausted. It doesn’t stop him from reaching out with his mind. He gently deposits the memory of their journey to his flat and the deep weariness he is enduring. Micheal welcomes him in its mind. 

The spiral of its thoughts devours additional experiences. Those new feelings are different than the usual blend of madness it is used to. The sensation of warmth when Jon leaned against Martin, the lull of the conversation the redhead tried to keep with Elias. The movement of a breathing person against his back. A vibration of Martin's voice when he gave an answer. 

The feeling of his power pushing against the world surrendering them to make a place for him. The bond with the Eye and the Spiral keeping him safe. The softness of the Web waved between all of them. The smell of burnt paper left from his conversation with Tim and still keeping him warm. Sasha’s calm stare confirming his place. 

They all lessen the pain of being an impossibility but to change the world means to pay the cost. 

Micheal pulls back, feeling the shadow of the weight pulling the Archivist down each time his knowledge goes against the state of things.

The monster tails behind Elias and sits close to Jon once he is deposited on the couch. It doesn’t take notice of the grim on his clothing. It envelops him in a hug. It wants the feeling of its touch to become an anchor in the storm. Its long arms find their place on Jon's stomach. Its hand worms its way underneath his clothes to press against his stomach. Skin against the skin there is no place for lies. 

“You could have asked for help, dear Archivist.” It chides him.

Jon nuzzles into its clothes. They are soft against his cheek. He opens his eyes to look at Elias and Martin. The two of them hover over the couch. Martin smiles at him, glad to catch his gaze.

“Are you with us Jon?” Elias asks softly.

“Yes.”

“Thank goodness. I was worried when you went away.” Martin leans down to run his finger along with Jon’s hair. 

Jon pushes into his hand, even though it makes him pull away from Micheal. The other monster pulls closer, letting Jon lean back into him and still nuzzle into Martin’s palm. It makes the redhead chuckle. He thinks of two cats making sure they get all the pets they need. The thought travels to Elias who sights. 

He can’t hide his amusement though. 

“Not to be dull, my dear, but you should consider taking a shower. “ He reminds Jon.

A pair of tired green eyes blinks at him slowly, soon followed by the blue pair belonging to Micheal. Jon doesn’t seem convinced about the whole endeavor, his usual tendency to keep things in order blunted by the exhaustion and the warmth. Micheal’s lips pull back in a smile so wide it looks like its face is splitting. It catches Elias’s eyes. The frown it seems forming on his face makes it smile even harder. Perfectly straight teeth show when its lips crack open. 

“Would you like to say something?” Elias provokes it. 

Before Micheal can even form a biting retort Martin steps in.

“Micheal, can you help us with getting Jon into the shower? We can change into more comfortable clothing and watch something on the telly later.”

The monster doesn’t look from Elias. 

“I could consider helping you.”

Jon sighs, knowing that he will be made to move soon. He is feeling slightly better than he did in the car. 

The death of Jane Prentiss has become part of history.

“Alright, alright.” He concedes. “You don’t have to baby me.”

He moves to get up, but a long arm pulls him back.

“Don’t ruin my fun, Archivist.” Micheal chuckles behind him. “What are you offering in exchange for my help?” It asks Martin.

Jon settles down with a huff. He looks at Elias, hoping to find some help there. The older man looks calculating. Jon doesn’t have to listen too closely to his thoughts to know he is torn between his want to see Jon squirm and his distaste for the creature. 

A thought of  _ ‘to think I would need it to have an upper hand _ ’ needles into his thoughts but Elias quickly shuts it down. Jon still catches it and sighs. 

‘ _ You are helpless _ .’ He projects back.

‘ _ Truly Jon. You are the one sprawled on the couch with it _ .’

Jon rolls his eyes. ‘ _ Jealousy doesn’t become you _ .’

‘ _ I am not jealous. I only worry about your health _ .’

Jon grumbles under his breath. He decides enough is enough and shares the feeling he has been picking up from Elias with Micheal and Martin. 

The monster laughs with its many voices. The Watcher looks almost betrayed at Jon. The Archivist pointedly ignores him.

The redhead sighs. “There is no need to antagonize each other.”

Elias stands up straight. “Thank you, Martin. Yet I have to say I don’t need your protection. I am perfectly capable of dealing with this myself.”

Martin shoots him an unbelieving look. It is hard to keep something to himself in a room with two mind readers. 

Especially when the thought is so expressed as the ‘ _ you don’t need help? You have the most fragile ego in this room. _ ’ passes Martin’s mind.

Martin goes red. He doesn’t need any special abilities to know that his thought has been heard. Elias looks surprised by his harsh critique. Micheal thinks it is hilarious. 

Jon catches all of their attention. It starts as a gentle shake of his shoulders and it travels lower. Soon he is trying to keep down the sound that tries to escape his throat, but it doesn’t work. His laugh is deep, throaty and the best sound they have heard. It brings tears to his eyes. 

He pulls away from Micheal. The monster’s hold has slackened when it noticed his shaking. Using it to his advantage he stands up. He looks at the three most important beings in his life and shakes his head. 

He is still chuckling softly when he moves to Elias. He stands up on his tiptoes and kisses the man’s cheek. The gray eyes follow his every move, their sharpness mellowed by the admiration. Elias moves his head to catch Jon’s lips in a deeper kiss. 

It is his own victory kiss. He puts his hand on Jon’s jaw, holding him close. He lets his tongue move against his partner’s closed lips. He is granted entrance which he uses gladly. He maps Jon’s mouth like he is scared he is never going to kiss him again. He pulls back but not without using his teeth on Jon’s lip, biting lightly. He doesn’t draw blood, but the redness left by pressure makes his Archivist look truly debouched. 

The feeling of having some kind of power over him disappears once he looks into those green eyes. There is nowhere to hide from them. Jon smiles at him with pleasure. It isn’t as overwhelming as his laugh but it still leaves Elias floored. 

“I will take that shower. Martin, don’t settle their arguments. They aren’t children.”

Jon goes into his bedroom for a fresh set of clothing and soon disappears into the bathroom. It leaves the three beings alone in his living room. Martin looks unsure between the other two. 

He feels like a child thrown into a lion’s den. 

The fear sits uneasily in his stomach. He trusts Elias to stay civil or at least keep his insults verbal. Micheal’s long knife-like fingers do not give him much confidence that it will stay that way.

“I am going to make some tea.” He decides and turns to the kitchen.

Jon has left him here because he must know nothing will happen to him. 

Jon trusts him. 

Jon cares about him. 

The mantra helps him keep his breathing under control. He thinks he even believes it.

Micheal leans back against the back of the couch. It knows the Watcher is observing it closely. He is looking for weaknesses and any disadvantages the other monster has. Micheal doesn’t stay in debt. 

It has known Elias Bouchard back before it has become itself and Jonah has taken control of the body. It remembers a mediocre man that couldn't follow deadlines but was a surprisingly good listener. It wonders if his death has been as twisted as its own creation. There are no marks on Elias’s body to indicate any fight has taken place. The skin around his eyes is perfect if not for a few wrinkles. Time doesn’t stop for him, no matter how many offerings to the Eye he makes. Micheal chuckles at the irony of it. 

“I think it would be most profitable to make an alliance of sorts,” Elias speaks. 

As a show of goodwill, he takes off his coat and hangs it on a chair nearby. He gets out of his boots and leaves them next to a wall. Clad in socks, pressed trousers, and a simple shirt he looks smaller. He pads to the other side of the couch and sits down. Micheal keeps on smiling, truthfully entertained by the other's attempt to look less like a threat. Like the Spiral would be tricked by clothing and posture. 

“Ahh, maybe it would.” It lets its head fall to the side. Its hair, still kept in a braid by one of Jon’s hairbands coils around its neck. “But what could you possibly want from me? After all, aren’t I just a pest?”

“I admit I do not share Jon’s interest in you. Yet for him, I would be willing…”

Micheal laughs. Somewhere in the kitchen Martin smiles reactively at it, but quickly schools his expression. Micheal laughing at Elias couldn't lead to anything good.

“Interest? Such a fascinating word. But a false one. What I and the Archivist have runs much deeper than mare interest. And even saying I do not interest you is a lie in itself.”

“Fine.” There is no softness in Elias’s gaze. It seems to be reserved for the most human members of their relationship. “While we gather many artifacts it is hard to find those belonging to your patrons. Especially the ones not destroyed by their user in a fit of madness.”

“Ah, winning me with trinkets isn’t going to work, Watcher.”

Elias looks at it sharply. “I am not offering trinkets but a more efficient way to feed. The hunt isn’t a part of your nature.”

“Yet it is amusing.”

“What I am offering will be even better. One of the amulets that have been donated to the Institute can influence more than one person. Another book is said to bring madness to all that read it.”

An understanding dawns at the creature. “You are offering to set them loose again.”

Elias smirks. He looks at the creature expectantly. As long as the artifacts stay in the Institute they are rendered obsolete. The proposal isn’t trifling.

“And what would you expect in return?” Micheal leans forward. It rests its head on its hand.

The razor-sharp fingers do not pose a threat towards it. 

“An understanding of where it comes to Jon.”

“Of what kind?”

“I do not wish to battle you over his attention. He has made it clear we both belong to him. What I do wish for is a sense we have an agreement. We both get his time. We share our devotion to him instead of fighting over it.”

“Hmm, fine.” Micheal chuckles. “A way for you to feel in control. You should just accept it though. We belong to him. There is no going back. He knows after all.”

Elias pursues his lips. “I do not want to go back.”

“No, you don’t. But you want to feel like there is more choice here. Like you don’t love him enough to even stand me.” It laughs. “Lying to yourself isn’t healthy, Watcher.”

Elias’s teeth grit together loudly. 

“Whatever you say.”

Micheal shrugs. “As long as you don’t make the Archivist unhappy I will try to keep my…” It acts like it is hesitating which words to use. It is so deliberate that it doesn’t even look halfway natural. “Way of being to a bare minimum.”

“Thank you. That’s all I’ve wanted to hear.”

It isn’t true but the creature doesn’t call him out on it. They have just made a deal after all. 

Martin comes back with a pot of tea. He tries not to express how happy he is there hasn’t been a physical fight between them.

“Sorry for what I thought before.” He speaks to Elias and tries to keep his eyes on him.

Micheal’s amusement isn’t helping.

“Think nothing of it. We cannot control our thoughts after all.” Elias answers kindly. 

At least a lot more kindly than he has been speaking to Micheal. 

“Still. No one likes to be called out on things like that. And well, I get it.” At Elias’s amused expression Martin elaborates. “I understand being jealous of Jon. He is just… so much. And to have his attention is like having the best thing in the world. It may be hard to share.”

“But you don’t have a problem with it.”

Martin shrugs. “I had to think about it, whatever I was ready for a relationship like this. But there is so much of Jon and he has so many different sides. I think having others to share his love with isn’t bad. It is even better to have someone else reminding him to take care of himself.” He smiles shyly.

It has the effect he was going for. Elias nods and even Micheal’s smile turns less sharp. 

“Yes, he does seem eager to run into various kinds of trouble.” Elias concedes. “I do prefer to keep him in my sight in case something overwhelms him.”

Martin nods quickly. “Yes, and he has this way of disappearing when he wants. I mean now I kind of suspect he has been using the certain yellow door.” He gives Micheal a side-eye.

“I am no kiss and tell, little Spider.” Micheal shooks its head disapprovingly.

“There has been a slightly higher activity of the Spiral in the Institute.” Elias points out.

“The Archivist carries me with him wherever he goes. The Eye also follows him close.”

“Ah, the scars.” Martin looks a little worried. “Did it have to be like this? To scar like this, the wounds must have been deep.”

Elias looks over at Micheal. It is a rare instance when they both look for the right words to explain something that just felt proper.

“The blood is a part of the ritual. A part of my life given to bind others to me.” Jon answers instead.

He stands in the open bathroom door, observing them quietly. His skin is pink from the shower and his hair falls to his shoulders unbound. He looks cozy in a t-shirt and comfortable pair of jeans. 

“I wasn’t even sure it would work,” Jon admits and moves further into the room. 

He looks at the coffee table than at Martin. He looks again.

The redhead makes a questioning sound.

“The mugs Martin.”

“Oh. Oh!” With a splutter, Martin gets up from his perch on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry.”

Jon accompanies him into the kitchen. The redhead opens the correct drawer and takes out four mugs.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks him. He even catches his arm in a gentle hold.

“Me? I’m fine. I feel like I should be asking you the same question.”

“Also fine. Although another quiet day would be welcome. Tomorrow we will have to come back to the Archives to really work.”

“It seems our vacation will be rather short.”

“There is no need to pressure them too much.”

Martin chuckles. He doesn’t want to break the hold Jon has on his arm so he uses his other hand to pull the Archivist closer. Once the other is secure in his arms he kisses him sweetly. 

It is a slow, lingering kiss. They don’t deepen it, just keep it chaste. A clear sign of ‘i am here.’ for the other.

“Come on. It is better not to give them an opportunity to actually kill each other.” Martin jokes.

Jon sighs. “I am considering helping one of them on a daily basis.” He grumbles under his breath.

Back in the living room, Micheal has the TV already on, ready to start the promised marathon. Elias looks to be more offended by the cooking show than he has ever been by any of the insults. 

With a little bit of maneuvering, they end up with Jon laying halfway on Martin and halfway on Micheal. The creature doesn’t seem opposed to the redhead's closeness especially when he starts playing with its hair. Elias lets his hand rest on the Archivist’s calves lying in his lap. He doesn’t pay attention to the TV and instead focuses on a book Jon tells him to pick up from his bookshelf. It has been there for a long time. Something a Jon from the past wished to recommend to his totally normal boss. Now Elias reads through it, fully aware of the eyes watching him. The fact that the Archivist prefers to accompany him in his reading instead of following after Micheal makes pleasure pool in his stomach. 

Jon picks up on it and his eyes narrow. He doesn’t try to deny it though. He fully understands that there are places where he cannot accompany his partners. British Bake Off may just be one of them. It doesn’t change the pleasant feeling of belonging he feels each time Martin smiles or Micheal purrs under him. 

Elias still treats it as a win.

* * *

The next few days are spend on tidying the Archives. The cleaning crew does their best to get rid of the worms’ corpses. What is left of Jane Prentiss is burnt and Martin gets Jon the ashes as a souvenir. 

Some things do not change no matter the world. 

The body of Gertrude Robinson is discovered in the tunnels. Tim is the one that is supposed to inform Jon of the discovery. He finds his boss deep in the process of filing the already recorded statements into their right place. A whole wall has been transformed into a bookshelf with sections designated for each Fear. A box of statements lays on the floor as Jon puts them in firstly: right section and secondly: according to the alphabetic order of the statement giver’s name. 

He is a flurry of movement, one second at the end of the wall, the next just in the middle of it. He has to stand up on his tiptoes to reach the top shelves. It makes his sweater ride up. Tim has a sudden flash of understatement why Martin likes to visit Jon’s office so often. And why he stays there just looking. He has caught the redhead at least once like that. Just watching their boss. It would be creepy if it wasn’t sweet.

“So, the Archivist that came before you. Found dead in the tunnels. Just so you know. They are taking her corpse out. Elias has swooped in and informed everyone about some propel burial.”

“I know.” Jon stops to give him an answer.

It is a show of respect that makes Tim’s heart grow fond. He smiles to himself sardonically. His boss’s weirdness has changed many of his definitions. 

Jon even turns to look him in the eye. 

“I should have guessed. No use trying to surprise you, huh?”

“I guess not.” Jon acknowledges with a smile of his own. “Did they find anything else?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I could but the tunnels are… a blind spot of sorts. It takes more of my attention than I think it is necessary.”

“Then how did you know…? No, never mind. I don’t want to know. Not my thing. But no, nothing else. Maybe a little bit of loitering. But it could have been something left by someone who has entered from the other side.”

“No. That’s not it.” Jon frowns.

“Okay, I will bite. What is it then?”

“Jogun Leitner.”

“Jogun Leitner? In the corridors? Under the Institute? What is he doing there? Stealing books by night?”

“Hiding.”

“Oh.  _ Ooooh _ .” Tim looks him up and down. “Is he scared of you or something?”

“He is not hiding from me.” Jon clarifies. “He is hiding from the Eye. Supposedly also from Elias.”

That makes Tim pause. He has guessed that their boss’s boss knows all about monsters. But the idea of him being more than just a bureaucrat with a taste for different relationships hasn’t caught up with his mind.

“So how do we lure him in?”

“You want to lure him in?” Jon sounds surprised.

“You don’t? Not to be too overeager. You seemed so enthusiastic about getting Prentiss.”

“Who has been a living hive. We are talking about an old man.”

“Who apparently likes living under our workplace. Totally normal.”

“Expecting normality from a founder of a library of paranormal books isn’t exactly sound itself.”

“Well, the lunacy of this place must be rubbing off on me.”

Jon shakes his head. Talking to Tim used to be annoying. He used to hate jokes because they interrupted his work. But now it feels so welcome he only smiles. He even does it when the jokes aren’t that good.

“To answer your question to get him to the Archives I would need to get there and use some of my…”

“... spooky powers?”

“Tim. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine. Your amazing powers that kept us alive. Better?”

“It is closer to the truth at least.”

“Was that a joke? Jon Sims has made a joke. Dear god. Gods I should say.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Sure, sure. In this case, when should I expect a visit from a scary Norwegian man?” 

“Maybe when the cleaning crew is done. Explaining another body won’t be easy.”

“Body? Body?!” Tim finally looks staggered. “What body? Leitner’s? Isn’t he alive? What? Jon?”

The Archivist shrugs. “You never know what might happen this time.”

Tim sighs. “Of course you would say it. Okay. Should I make a list of ten questions I would have you ask him before you kill him or can you already guess them?”

“I wouldn't kill him. At least I didn’t before.” Jon scowls at him. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions like this.”

Tim raises his eyebrows. “Right. So about those questions?”

“I will try to keep him alive so you can ask him about those Smirk related books you are obsessed about.”

“You are the best.” Tim nods. “Thanks.” The bite is barely there.

“Although you should ask Elias about Smirk. He has some firsthand knowledge.”

“Firsthand? What?”

Jon turns his back to him, clearly dismissing him. 

“Hey! You don’t get to drop things like that on me without an explanation.”

“I am busy Tim. We can talk later.”

Tim grumbles under his breath but concedes. He plans to catch Elias on his good day and sit him down for questioning. No matter if the man knew Smirk himself or just read some hard-to-get books. He isn’t going to let an occasion like this pass him by.

* * *

Basira is the one that comes to the Institute to get their accounts of the attack. She is as dry and professional as ever. She uses one of the rooms that people that gave statements were welcome in. She starts with Elias, listens to his foolproof account of a fire alarm going off and him being a perfect gentleman that let any older employee pass through during the evacuation. She asks about the fire extinguishers and begrudgingly Elias tells her about an attack on Martin. He acts as it pains him to share a secret. 

A perfect act that Basira almost buys. She is no Hunter, but she’s had enough to do with criminals to know when someone is trying to hide something. 

Elias makes her strangely unsure which becomes even more unsettling once she analyzes there isn't anything really weird about him. The perfect normalcy sets her on edge.

To balance it out the Head Archivist that comes in is a perfect mix of quirky and trying too hard. He talks with his hands and has a voice perfect for the radio. She is sure he couldn't tell a lie to save his life. Oh, she could see him try. Shaping words with his accent and fine wording but still falling short on the delivery. She asks him about the attack on Martin and somewhat isn’t surprised when the man goes red.

“Yes, Martin came here right the attack. We decided to head home immediately after.”

“Together?”

“Yes. We are in a relationship.”

She has seen this Martin in passing. A well-built guy with red curls and kind eyes. She wonders what he sees in a scrawny man in front of her. Not that she is one to judge. Each time anyone commented on her crush on Daisy she just bashed their teeth. Or thought about doing it.

“Yhm. Did you stay in for the whole weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Was there any sign of Jane Prentiss?”

“No. Although we didn’t leave the flat even once so there was no way to know whatever she was stalking us.”

“Yhm. And what happened on Monday?”

“We were working as usual. We were all shaken by the attack on Martin. A stable schedule is the best way to calm a disquiet mind. Then a wall in my old office collapsed. The worms came from behind it. They crawled inside. I managed to scream for help and soon enough my assistants were there to help me. Martin got me out of the rubble. Sasha and Tim secured our retreat to one of the rooms further in the Archives. We hit the fire alarm and hid from Prentiss.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes. We got out when there was no more sound of the worms and we could hear the firefighters calling for us.”

“Yhm. And how did you know about the fire extinguishers?”

“Excuse me?”

“You stocked the Archives with the fire extinguishers after the attack on Martin Blackwood. How did you know they would work?”

Jon takes a second to answer. Not long enough to raise suspicion but a weird thing happens. While he is looking at her he blinks. It creates a strange kind of double look. His green eyes are closed but for a second she is sure she can see an open pair of eyes staring at her from his face. The problem is the color isn’t right. 

She shakes her head. The Institute has a strange effect on each person that enters. She knows she isn’t the only one who has noticed it. 

“I have read about it in one of the statements.” He answers. He plays with the sleeves of the sweater he is wearing. 

A quick peek at the clock tells her he hasn’t waited for longer than a few seconds. It was just all in her head. 

“How did you know Gertrude Robinson?”

“I can’t say we had too many occasions to talk to each other. I worked in research and sometimes we were asked to do a job or two for the Archives. From the few times, I have met her I gather a picture of a sharp mind and business-like attitude.”

“Did you know anything about her disappearance?”

“No, nothing besides the office gossip.”

She thanks him for his explanation and waits until he is out of the room. She takes a deep breath. Once the man is out it feels safer. Like a predator has moved on. Yet she still feels observed. One of the perks of the Institute.

* * *

The next one is Sasha. She is younger than the Archivist but only by a few years. Yet she looks like the gap is way bigger. Or maybe Jon Sims looks incredibly ragged. Basira glances down at the information they have about her. She appears more experienced in the field than the current head Archivist. 

“I understand you and Gertrude Robinson have been close.”

“As close as anyone could be with her. She had no time for idle chatter. But she was very good at her job and it was a pleasure to work with her.”

“What did you two work on?”

“I checked the information needed to disprove some statements. I also acquired certain books she needed for her own research.”

“Did she have any enemies in the Institute?”

Sasha can’t help a smile from forming on her lips. “I’m sorry. The way you say it sounds like there is some secret bloody competition between scholars of the paranormal.”

“Is there one?”

“No. We may have our disputes but nothing so big to kill each other over. Not these days. We no longer tie people to fire pyres if they preach things we don’t like. We ostracize them and make sure they don’t get the money they need for further research.”

“Right. And did Gertrude have someone like that?”

“Here? No. Maybe in the US, she had gathered some bad press. She has disproved a few accounts of so-called psychics from the States. No one too big, just people who thought wasting our time with a false statement would give them some more credentials.”

Basira has the same feeling she had with the Archivist in the room. The pressure at the back of her neck is gentler, more like a caress. Yet she can feel it. It makes the short hair there stand. 

“Could you give me names?”

“I remember two of them. For more, I would need to check the files.” Sasha lists the names out of the top of her head. 

“Thank you.” Basira writes them down.

She doesn’t think that they anything to do with Robinson’s death. She still doesn’t know what to think about it. It feels too normal for a place like the Institute. Death by gunshot isn’t something she should be working at as someone sectioned.

“Is there anything else?” Sasha prompts her.

“Do you like working here?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have been working in the Archives full time for almost half a year. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I think so. Like you have noticed I have already been doing some of the jobs even before Jon asked me to become a part of his team. Being here all the time is interesting.”

“Yhm. Did you feel omitted when it was Jon that got the promotion to the Head Archivist?”

This time Sasha pauses. She looks unsure of her answer. She looks from Basira, her eyes falling on the door. She gathers her thoughts before replying.

“At first I did. I do have more experience. But the last few days have made me glad I am not the one having to deal with all of it on the first line. I am not the most courageous person. I like looking for answers and finding out the truth. But an army of worms coming into the Archives? After they have attacked my friend when he was trying to interview someone? It is good to have someone to follow in a situation like this.”

Basira nods. She can appreciate honesty.

“That would be all. Thank you.”

* * *

The next one is Tim. He saunters over to the chair, all cocky self-assurance. It doesn’t work since she has just witnessed how his eyes softened when he passed by Sasha. A conversation that didn’t need words passed between them in a second that their eyes met.

_ ‘Are you alright? _ ’

‘ _ Yes. Take care _ .’

‘ _ For you always _ .’

It doesn’t change the fact that Tim Stoker turns out to be a little irritating. He does his best not to answer her questions. 

“What were you doing when Jonathan Sims called for your help?”

“He prefers Jon.”

A silence falls like he has answered her question fully. She waits, willing to let him stim. They look at each other. Tim smiles at her, all charm and fluttering lashes. She stares back unflinchingly.

She wins in the end.

“So when Jon called for help I was in the middle of getting ready to do some research. Just settling in after the perfectly boring weekend.”

“So you grabbed a fire extinguisher and run to him.”

“Well, we all did. Martin would have killed us if we didn’t.”

“And you brought the extinguisher with you.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because there was nothing else that could have made Jon sound like a little girl beside those damn worms.”

Basira nods. She can feel there is something wrong with the account of what happened. Yet they aren’t paying her enough to press a team of traumatized librarians about worms attacking their place of work.

“Did you know Gertrude Robinson?”

“Met her once. I was looking for Sasha, heard she was down in the Archives so I came here.”

“What did you think of her?”

“Well, she didn’t take kindly to any form of bullshit.”

She feels like asking if he means the way he has been talking to her. She has to remind herself she has to keep it professional. No matter how much she wants to tell him to cut it.

“Anything else?”

“She was sharp. Really sharp. Besides that I can only rely on the rumors. She’s had a cat. She was on the good side of most of the spiders that live here. She traveled around with a tall goth kid. Maybe her adopted son or something. She didn’t like Elias that much. She thought he wasn’t good enough to be the head of the Institute.”

He finishes. He looks pleased with himself. She thinks back to her talk with Bouchard. Maybe he will need a little more questioning once she is done with the assistants.

“What was her relationship to the current Archivist?”

“Nonexistent as far as I know. I’ve known Jon even before coming to work here and he has never mentioned her aside from the usual gossips. Or maybe it was just me telling him the gossip. Hard to tell.”

“Did he want to work here before becoming the Head?”

“If he did he never mentioned it.”

It doesn’t make sense to her. Why make someone unwilling or neutral if Sasha was there up for the taking. May it have been a possible reason?

“Thank you, Mr. Stoker.”

He leaves and the room grows colder. She sighs. The way the Institute is different than any other place makes her head throb.

* * *

The last one to enter is Martin Blackwood. The boyfriend of the Head Archivist. She thinks she may like this soft man who watches her carefully. It makes her realize she must put more care into this interview. It is hard to press those you actually like. 

“Tell me about Monday.”

He shares a story the same as what the others had to say. A normal Monday morning. He blushes when he mentions coming in with Jon. She doesn’t rush to assure him she already knew. She waits. He follows with a description of a call for help. He doesn’t mention how girly it was. She is glad. 

Also if she asked she is sure she would get an answer along the way of how strong and brave Jon was. She doesn’t. 

Martin continues his tale. He got Jon out, they hid. The rescue came. It all plays the same. She feels like someone has spanned a yarn all around her. She has to follow the path set before her. It makes her nauseous. 

The kind man sitting in front of her shouldn't evoke such a feeling. She feels like she ought to apologize. Like the anxiety curling inside her gut is something to be ashamed of when faced with a soft look and red curls. 

“Did you know Gertrude Robinson?” She swallows against the bile in her throat.

“No, no I didn’t get a chance to meet her. I wanted to, but we never run into each other.”

She doesn’t know enough about the Institute hierarchy to know how they work. She is inclined to trust Martin.

“How do you find working here?”

“Weird? Each work has its particular quirks but recently it has been a little more than that.”

She thinks back to the corpses of worms and the one human corpse they have taken out. She decides that Mr. Blackwood is underselling his job’s weirdness.

“But besides that, it’s been really good. I know that finding a partner in your workplace can make you see it as a better thing than it really is, but it’s not just that. Tim and Sasha are fantastic. Tim teases me a little, but it’s all in good faith. And Sasha gives really good advice. We do some real research here. Not only with the use of the Internet but also on foot.”

“Which has lead to your encounter with Jane Prentiss.”

“Yes, or at least we think it was her.” He shrugs. 

A look of ‘ _ what can you do _ ’ passes over his face.

“Your relationship with Jonathan Sims is a recent development, correct?”

“Yes. I’ve stayed with him during the weekend and we… hit off?” His voice turns squeaky at the end. 

The redness brought to his cheeks tells her more than she would like to know about how his weekend went.

“Do you know if Mr. Sims knew Gertrude Robinson?”

“Not really. We haven’t talked about her. Even after the discovery, well we have been mostly focused on Jane Prentiss. Those two things have been too close in time for us to process it all.”

She nods understandingly. 

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Martin leaves her alone in the room. She stays in her seat and thinks about her options. She could try pressing Bouchard but he seemed all too happy to give her the answers she wanted to hear. Jon seemed easier to break and tell her something. She decides to leave it for another day. They still have the camera tapes to go through.

* * *

Daisy waits for her outside of the Institute. Leaning against her motorbike she looks more like a thug than a police officer. 

“Did any of them talk?”

“Maybe about their dates. Lots of office romance, not a lot of intrigues. It almost feels like an outside job.”

“Or they want you to think it is one.”

Basira rolls her eyes. Daisy’s paranoia has helped them almost as often as it has put them in a difficult position. 

“Maybe. But it doesn’t look like they are hiding any big scary monster between the books. I would be more worried about the tunnels. There have been signs of someone being down there.”

Daisy frowns. Her short-cropped hair moves with the wind. On someone less scary looking it would look goofy. Basira still considers it cute.

“What did the Head say?”

“Nothing of substance. They were still trying to deal with Prentiss and now this. He is worried about his workers, sad about death, etc.”

“Corporate bullshit.”

“Mostly, yes. He even looked the part. A perfect three-piece-suit. The Archivist, the current one, looks like death warmed over. And his eyes kept looking around, like all the time.”

“You are betting it’s him.”

“That or it really was someone from the outside.”

Daisy shakes her head. She reminds Basira of a dog. Not a small, barky one. No, a huge mutt that could kill someone in an instant. She tries not to think about what it tells about her taste in women.

“I don’t trust them. Or this place. It stinks of lies.”

“It is a library focused on the paranormal. It is mostly bollocks.”

Daisy frowns unhappily. She can feel something is wrong. Even outside of the building she feels observed and on edge. She is supposed to be the one hunting her prey, not the other way around. She can almost see their hands when they touched Basira. She keeps her thoughts to herself even though a growl at the back of her throat could be heard if they didn’t stand in the middle of a busy street.

“Next time I will go with you.”

“I don’t think they will put you on this case. Not enough sectioned officers around.”

“Then I will go in my free time.”

Basira looks Daisy up and down. It is highly unusual for her to treat anything so seriously. The typical cool air of confidence is broken by her hoovering. 

“Are you alright?” Basira frowns at her.

“Yes.” Daisy looks down at her. She relents at the unbelieving look. “As I said, something stinks here. The whole place feels wrong. Maybe they don’t hide the monsters between the books but I still don’t want you going there alone.”

Basira wonders about her answer for a moment.

“I will agree to bring you if I expect a confrontation. In other cases, I will just do my job.”

“Fine.” Daisy nods shortly. “Come on then. We have a situation at the outskirts.” She passes her an additional helmet. 

Basira takes it with a sigh. Another long day ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The police ladies are here. Although my favourite Daisy is the one that let go of the Hunt the scary version also has its advantages. What can I say: I have to types of people I find hot: soft creatures in sweaters and carrying cocoa and those that could bench press me with one hand  
> (69k words. the 10-year-old in me finds it hilarious)


	13. Chapter 13

There shouldn't be too many things to worry about for Jon. 

Unfortunately, a nagging feeling of having forgotten about something important keeps him from relaxing fully. It challenges the peace he has found between Martin, Elias, and Micheal. A part of him tries to keep constant vigilance over those he cares about. Several of his eyes are kept open all day and night. He doesn't know if they can get dry or tired but some of them sting when he gets too worried to give them rest. 

He cannot give up though. Each choice has consequences and those do he cannot foresee. He tries to use his knowledge to quiet those anxieties, to judge how things have changed and how some of them didn’t. 

He has read about the butterfly effect, seen a few movies with Georgie tackling the problem. He thinks about creating a big board with all of the possible outcomes but reminds himself his paranoia days are over. The Stranger is reading their ritual and so does the Lightless Flame. The Powers push back at him whenever he tries to look closer at their Avatars. It doesn’t deter him. He uses his connection to the Eye to observe and the Spiral to conceal. He is hesitant about the Web. It would be perfect in this situation but the Mother is still too fickle. 

The spiders continue to follow him. The hairs on his arms raise whenever he hears the scratching of small legs running across a surface. A part of him, the little child hidden behind the immense power he wields and the years of experience of ignoring his fears covers each time he senses one of the arachnids getting a little bit closer. He counts himself as lucky when he discovers they do not like Micheal and the way he twists reality. The straight paths they have created with their webs suddenly turn into shapes that shouldn't exist. A moment later they twist once again and again and again. Not a word passes between Jon and Micheal but both know why there are no small creatures watching their every move. Micheal smiles too widely and giggles at Jon's happy sigh. 

They have taken to sleeping in a new position, whenever Martin isn't around to make them move to the bedroom. Jon sits with his back against the armrest with his laptop and several notes lying near him. Micheal ends up lying against his chest, not caring at all about the laptop lying on its back. Sometimes Jon reads out loud the parts of the notes he has found to be true, at others he gets frustrated with the number of lies twisted with the truths. The statements lying about the Powers give him headaches but the Spiral is all too happy to feed on them.

His frequent worrying gets worse with each day bringing them closer to the Unknowing. 

He finally decides to take action. He uses the opportunity given to him by an errand Martin needs to run after their work. The redhead apologizes profusely, not accepting the gentle understanding sent his way. Jon doesn’t try to scold him for it, even if it takes a few deep breaths and a physical strain not to scowl. The worry behind each of Martin’s words is laced with love and deep-rooted affection. And with a taste of bitter uncertainty. 

“Am I being too much?” Martin asks him. His voice quivers at the end.

“Too much apologizing. It is quite normal that you need to visit a dentist. I will come by your place tonight.”

“Oh, you will?” Martin tries not to sound too happy. Maybe Jon is joking. He isn’t quite known for his jokes, but the possibility is always there.

“Unless you don’t want me to.” Jon knows the answer. He feels the need for affection and care radiating from Martin like it is his own. Maybe it is in a way.

“No, no. I very much would love to have you at my place. It’s just I thought…” Martin hesitates.

“That if you don’t follow the usual script I won’t be happy.” The words sound hollow, picked up from the depths of Martin’s own mind. 

“Yes? You don’t have to say it out loud.” 

Jon rolls his eyes. It is impossible not to hear such a loud thought. Yet he tries to find a way to understand Martin’s point of view. Boundaries are such a fickle thing. 

“I apologize.” Maybe saying things he can clearly see out loud are one of those things he needs to control.

He gently tugs on Martin’s arm to bring him lower. He kisses his impossible boyfriend slowly. He doesn’t deepen the kiss. The Institute is still their workplace. When they part Martin’s cheeks are red and his eyes have a shine to them. 

“Okay. So you will come by. Awesome.” He gives a lopsided grin.

“Indeed.” Jon squeezes his arm for the last time. “I will be there around 7.”

“Okay.” Martin’s voice still sounds dreamy. His eyes track Jon’s lips, not taking in any of the words he has said.

Jon glances at the watch hung on the wall of the Archives. They still have time. He circles his arms around Martin’s neck and kisses him again. He has to remind himself they need to keep it chaste. Especially when the redhead opens his lips in surprise. 

A low whistle breaks them apart.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Tim’s voice grates on their ears.

“We clearly already did.” Jon snarks back. 

His gaze catches Martin’s. They are both embarrassed but they share a small smile.

“It’s like I am not even here,” Tim grumbles under his breath.

He marches to his desk to get the forgotten jacket. He hesitates for a second. He wants to talk to Jon, but imposing on them now, when they are clearly caught in their own world doesn’t seem fair. He decides to leave it for later.

“Have a good night you two.” He calls once he is at the door again.

A distracted “Bye” makes him smile a little. It’s good to see those two idiots in love. 

“I think I need to get going,” Martin whispers like it is a secret he doesn’t want to share.

“You still have a minute.”

“Using your powers to keep me here? Jon!” He tries to sound scandalized but his laughter breaks the illusion easily.

“I could argue that it is one of the better ways to use them.”

Martin chuckles. He moves forward to kiss Jon’s brow. “I won’t fight you on it. But I would prefer to get to the station earlier.”

Jon lets him go with a sigh. “Just remember to be careful.”

“About my dentist?” Martin starts gathering his things. “I am certain he doesn’t have any secret plans to kill me. I’ve known him since childhood.”

Jon shrugs. “You can never be too careful.”

“I’m sure Jackie will help me.”

“Who?”

Martin runs his hand along his hair. When he shows Jon his palm a spider is sitting in the middle of it. “I named him Jackie. His predecessor was Steven.”

Arachnid isn’t too big. It fits perfectly in Martin’s hand. There is a pattern on its body and even without checking Jon is sure it belongs to a venomous species. He is glad that the Web took the role of protecting Martin seriously.

“You named the representation of the Web Jackie.”

“Don’t you like it?”

Jon shakes his head. “It is… a name certainly.” At Martin’s knowing smile Jon sighs. “We both know that spiders aren’t exactly my thing. Yet I can appreciate their role in keeping you safe.”

“It’s all we need.” Martin assures him. 

He deposits Jackie back on his neck. The spider’s legs move quietly but Jon is sure he can hear the scritch-scratch sound, the same one he sometimes hears in his bedroom when Martin stays the night. It disappears under his collar. 

“Okay. I got everything. Wish me luck?”

“Yes. No matter if the dentist is a plain human or not, I do think a visit like that needs some luck.”

Jon stands on his tiptoes to kiss Martin’s cheeks. 

The redhead smiles again. “See you later then.” 

He leaves the Archives with a spring in his step. 

Jon looks after him. A quick check on the dentist Martin is going to reveals that the man is still human and hasn’t been touched by any of the powers. Jon leaves it at that. He doesn’t need to know about his wife, his lover, or his children. The knowledge doesn’t help him nor does it feed the Eye. The clutter created by useless information makes him wince. 

He shuts down the loop of one information leading to another leading to looking for more. He has a job to do. He takes his coat, another one from Elias, and closes the Archives behind him.

* * *

He takes the shortest route to Hill Top Road. The house with the 105 number hung on its door pulls him toward itself. His eyes open wide. He can trace each line connecting the Spider and its feature meals. He takes care not to stomp on them or move them. Even a gentle distribution could make the person at the other end dance. 

He can feel many eyes following his steps. He looks right back. He is the Archives. No Power can rival his ability to watch and observe. The Spider doesn’t blink but the doors to the house open before him. He can see the place the tree used to be.

A blackened trunk stands out against the green grass. He thinks about Agnes for a second. He wishes he had met her. Maybe she would have given him advice about having godlike powers.

Behind the opened doors there is a normal looking hallway. He steps in. There is no furniture, no tapestry. The house looks bare. In the corners, he can see cobwebs occupied by small spiders. He looks around wondering which way he should go to find the one he came for.

“It took you long enough.” Annabelle Cane greets him.

She observes him from one of the rooms. He gets a few steps closer but keeps his distance. It isn’t a good idea to get tangled in the Web.

“I had a few things to take care of beforehand, as you are aware of.”

She shrugs. “And you took care of them quicker than we anticipated.”

“There was no use waiting for Prentiss to attack first.” The idea makes him scowl.

“Maybe. But you didn’t even let her have a taste of victory.” The curve of her mouth quirked up.

“Are you talking about Martin?” His scowl deepens.

“Am I?” Annabel smiles at him. 

Her white hair blends with the white walls. There are braids hidden between her straight, combed back hair. She looks good, healthy. It surprises him, even though maybe it shouldn't. The Spider is there for the long game. It doesn’t want to destroy its Avatar, it wants them to spin the web for it.

“I am here to talk about him nonetheless.”

“Yes. You made him one of us without even asking.” She tilts her head to a side. 

“I couldn't have done that if there wasn’t a connection already.” 

“Maybe. But you still pushed him towards us.”

“Do you oppose it?”

“Not at all.” She crosses her arms. “But you want more from us.”

Jon looks her in the eye. All of his pupils focus on her and the one speaking through her. 

The Spider isn’t happy about it, but it takes his scrutiny gracefully.

“I want to keep this world the way it is. Just like you. No Watcher’s Crown. No more destruction of the rules that govern.”

She blinks slowly. “The Crown isn’t going to happen without the Archivist and Jonah Magnus working towards it.”

“Maybe. But there are other Powers who may find a way to create a grand ritual.”

“You want the Mother as a fail-safe for the future.” Her brow furrows. 

“You have the best assets to assist me with this.” Jon tries to sound appealing. “It would be foolish not to ask for your help.”

“Ask for? Are you giving us a choice, Archivist?”

The heavy silence follows. It is underlined by the scratching made by the spiders spinning their webs all around them.

“Have you ever given me one?”

Annabelle smiles. Her face looks almost human for a second but the flash of her dark eyes betrays her real nature.

“Would you prefer it if we did? Or is your power enough to pay for all that you went through?” She clicks her tongue. “Tell me, Jonathan. Would you give it back?”

Jon stares at her. The hum is silent. He reaches for it but it doesn’t bring any answer. He tries using his connection to the Spiral, it has helped him with the hum before. The silence is defying. Even the Eye doesn’t offer anything. 

He comes back to the house and the webs. Annabelle is looking at him with a knowing smile.

“I do not know.” He finally offers.

“It is not something to know. It is a thing to feel.”

“Then I do not know how I feel about it.” Jon fails at keeping the irritation from his voice. “There is no use wondering about it. I am where I am because of your mechanizations. There is no going back.”

“But isn’t that exactly what you did? You came back here. You are here because of your choice.”

“Putting me in a position where my choices are fairly limited defies the definition of free choice.” Jon takes a calming breath. “In the same way, we can agree I am offering you a choice. You can help me or don’t. The consequences of your decision aren’t my fault.”

“Of course. And our options are always limited, Archivist. We are all caught in the web. I am not opposing the choice you are giving us. I only wish for you to understand your current position.”

Jon scowls. “I am not a spider pulling a helpless child into its lair.”

“Your web is different, yes. Yet you cannot be this blind not to notice how it has spread across the Institute of yours. Everyone follows you, accepts what you give them.” She trails off.

Jon blinks. All of his eyes close and open, taking in the new information.

“What you are saying is…?”

Annabelle doesn’t continue. She observes Jon, judging his reaction. He looks across her face, looking for a lie. His presence in the room weavers as his eyes look further and further.

“I haven’t coerced them into anything.”

“Maybe. But you made them know things.”

Jon doesn’t deny it. He tries to follow the lines of his conversations, tries to see what the Spider sees. 

Finally, he stops. “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Hmm. Of course, we are willing to help you.”

Jon sees the spiders running down her arm. They circle her wrist and make their way back. They create a moving band just above her hand.

“But you want to bring the Extinction to this world.” She points out. “It will disturb the balance in one way or another. It will be an unknown factor. Are you willing to deal with it?”

Jon raises his eyebrows. “I assume you have already found out how I want to assure it will be a controlled change. Unless you want to argue that we should leave the Extinction out. Then the risk of it appearing unchecked will be much greater.”

Her arm extends. It traces along one of the webs extending from somewhere behind her back. The truth hits Jon. The line is connected to Annabelle herself. She touches it gently, plucks at it with her pointing finger. She observes the way it moves.

Up

And

Down.

Her brow furrows just a little.

“You want to tie it to Jonah.”

“Yes.” 

“The probability of it granting him his wish is high, but it is not certain.”

“It won’t be an Immortality. Not fully.”

Annabelle's eyes widen. She quickly schools her expression into something passive.

“Then what?”

“It will tie him to the Power and as long as the Extinction is taking place he will be its Avatar. And it will be here up until the last creature is alive.”

“Ah.” She nods. “Clever.” She reads the line she has been touching earlier. “A tie of feelings and desire can still be broken.”

“I do not wish to hurry the process. I want him to be fully committed before I tie him to me.”

“Giving time to a man like him can bring disaster. One big enough we all will have to clean it up.” The warning in her voice is apparent.

“Jonah Magnus has one goal. If someone promises to give him what he wants and he knows that person is capable of that he will follow.”

“A simple man with a simple desire.”

“Yes.” Jon admits. “I will make sure that the Extinction and Jonah Magnus are taken care of. What I would like to ask of you is help with monitoring any future events that may be a danger to the world and those close to me.”

“As long as our goals remain similar I will be on your side.” Annabell hesitates for just a second. It is long enough for all of the eyes to focus back on her and stop tracing the webs strung across the room. “I can offer you advice as a show of goodwill.” She finally says.

“Yes?” Jon’s throat gets dry. He expects he won’t like what she has to say.

“You should look closer at Tim Stoker if you wish to keep your assistants unharmed.”

Jon tugs on the sleeves of his coat. He thought that the Desolation had taken to Tim without a hitch. The last few weeks haven’t given him any indication he should worry about him. He tries to remember anything strange or worrying happening during their interactions. 

He has seemed satisfied with their job, the lore they have been discovering, and from what Jon has gathered from his conversations with Martin, his relationship with Sasha. There shouldn't be anything wrong.

Then it dawns on him.

Jon grits his teeth. “How bad is it?”

Annabelle looks at him closely. She smiles at what she finds. “Not that bad. Yet it may not reach the conclusion you wish for.”

“Thank you for notifying me then.” Jon nods. 

“No need. As I said it is a show of goodwill. I will take care of my part of the deal and I hope you will take part of yours.”

“I will.”

It brings the end to their conversation. Just before Jon leaves Annabelle calls after him.

“Say hello to Martin for me.” Her voice is softer than it was during their conversation.

Jon counts it as a win.

* * *

The Archivist wanders for a while. He still has time before Martin gets back and he wants to have a clear head when they meet. The possibility of him using his powers on his assistants doesn’t sit well with him. He has done what was necessary and yet.

He can feel dread in the pit of his stomach. He wonders how many times he has used his powers without realizing it. The hum usually warns him about itself by getting louder but its constant buzzing has blended into background noise.

The further he walks the more doubt sets in. He looks back at his relationship with Martin, at his gentle care and acceptance. 

The dread he is feeling starts to spread. 

His influence on Micheal, on Elias. 

He hasn’t really thought about it. The clash of Micheal’s feelings, its curiosity and joy, and the affection it radiated whenever they met. 

The thought that his power influencing Elias is at least a payback of sorts makes him laugh. The sound barely travels through his clenched throat. He doesn’t want it all to be a lie. A fairytale he has been telling himself.

In his distracted state, he doesn’t notice the way he is going. He doesn’t brush against any passerby, his other eyes wide open and watching everyone. The spiral starts pulsing, its lull normally calming makes him want to vomit. It feeds on lies. He could be the greatest feeder and not notice it, just like he hasn’t noticed its influence before. 

He stops in front of a box of flats. He knows Martin isn’t back. The unrest makes him want to go on. To walk until he gets the answers or just walks away from the problem altogether. He curses the Spider for telling him about it.

No.

He curses himself for creating the situation. The truth must be beholden. He is the Archive after all. He needs answers.

* * *

“Jon? Jon!” The Archivist is shaken out of his thoughts.

A pair of blue eyes look at him with worry. Martin stands before him with a furrowed brow.

“Martin.” His lower lip trembles. He tries to quickly gather himself. “Oh, you are back.”

“Yes. And where did you go?”

“Searching.” At the raised eyebrows Jon hurries to elaborate. “I have been using my power on you. I haven't even noticed and what if it has affected you.” The words leave his mouth one after the other.

“Okay, okay.” Martin touches his arm gently. “Let’s get inside. You can explain everything there.”

Jon finally looks away from his eyes. There are still on the street. 

He nods. “Yes, that would be better.”

He knows the insides of Martin’s flat. Without hesitation, he walks into the living room and collapses on the nearest chair. His coat opens, revealing his warm sweater. He doesn’t need to listen in to Martin’s thoughts to know he looks disturbed.

“Now then. What happened?” Martin prods with a low voice.

Like he is talking to a spooked animal. Jon winces at the thought.

“I went to talk to the Spider.”

“The Spider. The Web?” Martin clarifies.

Jon nods. “Yes. I spoke with one of its Avatars. And she has told me…” Jon hesitates. “She has told me I have a web of my own. The one I use to make you accept the things I say as truth. I influence you through it. You, Tim, Sasha. Even Elias.” Jon moves forward. He hides his face in his hands. His voice comes out muffled. “I think she is right. I know she is. What have I done, Martin? Have I made you…? And Elias. Even Micheal?” 

He feels like he doesn’t have the strength to continue.

“Oh, Jon…” Martin falls to his knees in front of him. 

He moves slowly even though Jon cannot see him. At least not with his human eyes.

The redhead reaches out to touch Jon’s hand. He traces the protruding veins, curls his fingers around Jon’s, and pries his hands away from his face.

The Archivist looks down at him. His eyes are bloodshot. There is wetness gathering in them but no tear has fallen, yet.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?” Martin pulls one of the hands towards himself. He nuzzles his face into it. “Years. I would catch a glimpse of you back before we started working in the Archives. And you were so beautiful. You could answer any question shot your way. Or if you didn’t you would get this determined look in your eyes and promise you will find out. It was so adorable.”

Jon feels his cheeks heat up. He shakes his head trying to hide it. “It doesn’t prove anything…”

“Shh. Let me finish.” Martin kisses the inside of his palm. “After you came back changed I knew something was different. I mean, it would be hard not to. But you are still Jon. And to be honest, even if you have told me about the monsters and gods and everything back before there is a high chance I would have believed you.”

Jon can’t help but scoff. “Just because you liked my face?”

“And because you are the only person I know that is so hell-bent on finding out the truth,” Martin admits. His smile is so bright Jon needs to look away. His gaze is caught by Martin’s eyes which crinkle with delight. 

“You have given me time to think about this weird relationship. You have asked me and reminded me so many times that I have options. Right now you are just being unfair towards yourself.” Martin kisses his wrist. His lips linger and he is sure he can feel how fast Jon’s heart is beating through the skin.

“But my influence…”

“It makes people believe the truths you are telling them?”

“Not only truths but everything. I think.”

“Have you lied to me?”

Jon sputters. “No of course not.” Then he thinks about it. “The spiral on my arm. It has created an illusion and it did fool you into believing that I was… your Jon.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“No.”

“Then if there is any point in which I am obliged to forgive you just know that I do.” Martin takes the other hand he is holding and kisses along one of the fingers. 

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Hm? Why doesn’t it?”

Jon tries to come up with an answer. There is no reply from the hum. Neither of the powers tied to him answer.

“I cannot answer for Elias or Micheal but I don’t care about the truths you have shared with me. Not really.” Martin’s smile widens. “And I do not worry about you influencing me to feel a certain way about you or this relationship. I would say your grasp on feelings can be a little too faulty for a master manipulation.”

Jon's mouth opens. And closes. He tries to think of a comeback but all he can do in the end is starting to laugh. 

Martin joins him. He lets go of Jon’s hands and stands up. He takes his time taking off his coat and boots. Jon follows suit. 

He wonders if he should start another difficult conversation, this time concerning Tim. He decides to risk it.

“Martin, something is going on with Tim.” Jon’s voice weavers. “I may have not influenced his emotions but I have given him an opportunity to bond to one of the Powers. And I may have made a mistake.”

Martin’s brow furrows. He stirs Jon towards the couch, where they can talk comfortably.

“Can you start from the beginning? Please?”

Jon tries to talk about why he has chosen the Flame, the book, and how it is supposed to help Tim. He talks about Elias’s advice. His hands fly in wild gesticulation as he makes sure to convey both his intent and his worries.

Martin listens in closely. Once Jon is done he leans back. His stare turns blank while he tries to recall his recent interactions with Tim.

“He looks happier. His jokes are no longer mean.” Martin admits after a second. “He and Sasha are together instead of just sleeping together.”

“I thought so too. The happy part, I do not pay too much attention to the romance of my coworkers.” Jon huffs at Martin’s amused look. “If not for the Spider I wouldn't have even thought about looking too much into his private life.”

“Can’t you just take the book away? If the Flame is the problem taking it away should solve it.”

Jon reaches out to his powers. The knowledge arrives in front of his mind in an instant. 

“I could but it has already noticed him. His hatred for the Stranger has been strong enough to catch its attention.”

“What would happen if you just severed the connection between them?”

“I am not sure.” Jon turns his head to the side. All of his eyes look around, not seeing the room around him but the pool of knowledge. “There are ways to get away from a Power and the ways a Power can devour its Avatar. To sever the bond from outside is not impossible.” He licks his lips. The whites of his human eyes keep showing. Martin represses a shudder that threatens to run down his spine. The whole situation reminds him too much of the morning before Prentiss. “You can change a god. But to pull him away and leave him unanchored could be dangerous for him.”

“Can he turn away? Without being maimed or killed?”

“Yes. I think so. Each of his choices matter. He must choose the Flame or not.”

Martin sighs with relief. “In this case, I don’t think there is much to worry about. Or at least less than we thought there is.”

Jon’s eyes stop spinning and searching. He comes back to himself. He feels the softness of his sweater moving across his skin and the tightness of his jeans. 

“How can we be sure? I may have…”

“Stop, Jon.” Martin’s voice rings surprisingly sharp. He softens his tone. “If this is a choice and Tim has something worthy of being kept safe he will choose right.”

Jon hesitates. He wants to argue some more. “Just believe in us, okay?” Martin doesn’t let him. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time. We are here to help you.”

“Even if it is my fault? I set him on this path.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he has been this way for a long time.” Martin looks away. He clears his throat before continuing. “I mean the amount of dark humor and some of his comments have risen some red flags for me. It doesn’t excuse you but there is no use thinking about things that cannot be changed. We can try to make sure the consequences aren’t that bad.”

“You don’t have to… It is my mistake. I should pay for it.”

Martin chuckles. At Jon’s surprised look he chuckles again. “We are in this together. You have said so yourself. And I will gladly help you with correcting your mistakes.” He shakes his head. “And being there for my friend isn’t a burden.”

Jon bits his lips. He doubts he has done anything deserving of someone like Martin. He chides himself for doubting himself again in a voice that surprisingly or not sounds like the redhead sitting in front of him. “Fine. We will make sure he is alright together.”

“Now this is settled, come and help me with getting our supper ready.” Martin stands up and extends his hand. 

Jon accepts it and lets himself be pulled up.

* * *

Jon tries to listen to Martin and just trust Tim. He checks on him from time to time to show his support. Or asks Sasha how their weekend has been. That comes out awkward enough for him to stop for a day or two. He checks on Tim with his additional eyes, tries to always keep him in his sight. 

Martin reminds him that they should be supportive, not controlling whenever he catches Jon just staring into the direction where Tim is working. It doesn’t take a lot of guessing as to why his boyfriend is staring at a bare wall of his office. Jon colors red and tries to explain that he does trust him. He is just worried.

“I know, Jon. But we can lose his trust with constant surveillance.” Martin does his best to sound patient. 

“If something goes wrong we should be notified quickly. Then we can step in.”

“That is a part of trusting in Tim. it should be his choice whether he asks for help or not.” 

“What if he doesn’t? Then it will be my fault…”

“Jon.” Martin rounds the desk. The statement he has brought to Jon lies discarded and forgotten. “This way you will make it worse.” At a guilty expression blooming on the Archivist’s face, Martin softens his tone. “Remember what we have talked about.”

Jon nods. He tries to be more subtle. 

He still keeps an eye on Tim, takes notice of all of his jokes which proves useful when he tries to prank him. Jon reminds himself that jokes are a good sign and acts as if he has fallen for them. Tim’s delighted face turns out to be worth it.

“What’s eating at you, boss?” Tim asks once he is done laughing. “You have been running around looking more worried than the last time you send Martin to do leg work.”

“It’s nothing.” Jon shakes his head. 

“Really? Then I shouldn't worry about you interrogating Sasha about our free time?” Tim’s teasing smile widens when he sees Jon splutter.

“I am sorry about that.”

“Yeah, it is kind of sweet that you care. And kind of creepy even if we used to be the Institue grunts together. But I have a feeling something is going out here. Pray tell what exactly? Is it another attack?”

“No. It’s not… Are you happy?” 

“What?” Tim's jaw goes slack.

“Are you happy, Tim? Here in the Archives, with us.”

“Okay. Weird question. But yes. I am. Things are weird as heck but there is something about having other people going through the same shit you do.” Tim shrugs.

“Good.” Jon draws his lower lip between his teeth.

“Now you must tell me what is going on.”

“It’s…”

“If you say nothing I will go ask Martin. Or even better, complain to Elias about you.”

“It’s not like he can fire me.” Jon points out.

“Okay, fair point.” Tim continues to prattle but Jon is taken back by how easy it was to change his mind.

He tries checking whatever he has used his power. The Eye buzzes lightly leaving him to interpret it however he likes. Bile starts rising up his throat. He swallows nervously to keep it down. The buzz he feels in his stomach hasn’t changed at all during their conversation. He hopes it means he hasn’t used his power unintentionally. 

“So what is it?” Tim finishes what was probably a rather dry joke.

“I am uncertain about the Power that was supposed to help you.” Jon relents. His mind keeps on going back to the hum instead of focusing on the conversation. 

“Well, I have been meaning to talk to you.” Tim scratches his neck. “No fireballs are coming and I don’t know if I should start worrying.”

“The book you have may not be suitable for you any longer. It would be better if you brought it back to the Institute. I will search for something better.”

“So all these staring because of a book?”

“It is connected to an ancient power which can explain why I would prefer to be careful with it.”

“Fine, fine. I will bring it in tomorrow. I hope you will have something good.”

Tim leaves with a spring in his step.

* * *

Jon doesn’t exactly hide from Martin’s knowing gaze in Elias’s office but it is a near thing. He crumbles into the sofa and just shares the recent events with Elias. The cool, gray eyes watch over him calmly.

“What can I say, Jon. You are trying to give him profits of a connection to a god without the drawbacks. That can create lots of problems. The Spider has been kind enough to point them out before they fully arrived.”

Elias sighs. He lowers down the pen he has been holding when Jon barged in. Going over contracts will have to be done later. He pushes himself away from the desk and stalks towards the sofa.

He settles in on the opposite side of it. He pats the space between them, the message clear. Jon lowers himself down and settles with his head on Elias’s thigh. The headache pulsating behind his eyes makes him want to vomit.

“You have yet to bind the Flame to you. Even with it bound, the manipulation of such an element will be difficult.”

“There is a fire inside him. He wants to destroy the circus with so much favor no other power would suit him.”

“Then why not bind it already?”

Jon’s brow furrows. “I do not have a conduit.”

Elias starts carding his long fingers through Jon’s hair. “Ah. Then maybe you should accept the consequences and just let Mr. Stoker chose his own path.”

Jon closes his eyes. “Which is a euphemism of using him to bind it. ”

“Is it not what you have planned to do?”

Jon turns his face to hide it against Elias’s trousers. The rough material brushes against his face. The outside stimulation helps him think clearly.

“You realize you do not have to be ashamed. Not in front of me.” Elias traces Jon’s visible year with a pad of his finger. “Not for that.”

“Is Martin right then? Is all I can do is to watch Tim choose?” Jon's voice comes out muffled.

“I would say so, yes. Mr. Blackwood has a keen sense of this kind of thing. It would prove fruitful if you listened to him from time to time.” 

“I see you two have taken to each other splendidly.”

He can feel Elias chuckle. “Quite.”

A companionable silence fills the room. Elias keeps on carding his fingers through Jon’s hair.

“There is another thing that Annabelle has pointed out.” Jon turns his head so he can catch Elias’s eye. “A drawback of my own powers.”

“Oh?” The other man cannot hide the excitement in his voice.

“I do not expect you to like it.” Jon sighs and gathers his courage. “The truths I share are believed without need for arguments or discussion.”

He watches the effect take place. Each word that leaves his mouth is filled with power, unlike the static, he associates with asking for statements. There is a melody to them, a song like quality. Elias takes them in and just for a second his face blanks. Jon knows that the information is taking root, finding its place in his mind, and just like that the phrase has become the ultimate truth.

“Is that so? I must say I have been wondering about why I have taken your appearance in the Institute so lightly.” He admits.

“I fear that this ability and my lack of control over it has influenced your decision about the form of our relationship.”

“Don’t be absurd. There is a difference between information and feelings. The Eye specializes in one while the Spiral is more accustomed to another.” Elias shakes his head. “Maybe you should consult it with… Micheal.” The name doesn’t even sound right on his tongue.

“Maybe I will,” Jon murmurs.

They stay silent for a little bit longer before Elias speaks up.

“I do not wish to hurry you, my dear but I do have some matters to attend to. Although I would like to invite you for dinner this weekend.” 

Jon startles at the sudden break of silence. “Yes. Yes. I would love to come by.”

He tries not to sound distracted but he knows he fails. Elias bends down to plant a kiss on his brow.

His escape has to have an end. He pulls himself up. He doesn’t leave without a kiss goodbye. Elias kisses him like he would love for them to stay there for eternity. 

* * *

Jon doesn’t have to track Micheal down. The creature visits him in the evening, waiting on the couch when he leaves the bathroom. 

“You want something from me, Archivist.” It states while watching him closely.

“Yes.” Jon freezes in place for a second before taking a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you about the distinction between my power and yours.”

Micheal tilts its head to a side. 

“What I mean is how much influence can I have over the emotions of those close to me?”

“It all depends on how close you are.” Micheal points out. It laughs when Jon scowls.

“With my powers. I cannot access the knowledge about it as usual.”

“Then maybe it is not something you can do.”

“Or I just don’t know that I do.” Jon sighs frustrated. “I haven’t known about my ability to make others believe what I say and still used it.”

“I do not have an answer.” Micheal shrugs. “Your abilities, Archivist, are beyond me.”

Jon sits down next to it with a huff. “Martin has assured me that his feelings are true. So did Elias, in a way. But how can I be sure?”

“You cannot.” Jon looks at it. “There is madness in love, haven’t you heard?”

Jon snorts. “Are you going to start quoting poetry at me?”

“Hm. Maybe. If it is the only way for you to accept the possibility of uncertainty.”

“I need the knowledge to make sure that everyone is safe.”

“Is there anything in this world that could oppose you and survive?” Micheal looks delighted. “I would like to see anything try. Your power during our encounter with the hive was truly amazing.”

Jon hesitates. “No, I doubt there is.”

“So let it be, Archivist.”

Jon bits his lip. He is tempted to continue to worry about it. But there is also the problem with Tim and whatever the Spider has seen. He sighs.

“Fine. I will take your word.”

“That’s never a good idea.” Micheal laughs with its many voices.

* * *

To Jon’s chagrin, Tim doesn’t come to work the following day and no way of communicating with him works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally done with my university stuff! so i can write more! it's so good to be back.  
> by the way thank you guys for all of the comments. you keep me going and bring a smile on my face each time I open ao3. and it's not like I do it every second after uploading......


	14. Chapter 14

Sasha can’t keep still. She fidgets in her clothes, feeling like there is a clothing tag scratching her skin. There is none. She has checked. The clothes don’t seem to be a problem. No, it is her skin. It feels too small for her yet at the same time confining. 

She tries to concentrate on her work. Her brow is furrowed. She has been having trouble keeping a conversation with Martin. She trails off whenever he asks her about something. Something is off. This strange feeling doesn't let her focus.

She entertains the idea that it is her usual overthinking and constant worrying. She has noticed that Tim hasn’t come to work yet but decided he must have gone to do some reconnaissance. However, it has never felt like this. She is certain it is connected to Tim’s absence. A gallery of different scenarios runs through her mind, each worse than the one that came before. She knows it is her own fear speaking, just like it usually does. Yet she is sure that Tim isn't okay.

The certainty leaves her mouth dry. She looks through the papers left on Tim’s desk, hoping to find any inclination to where he must have gone. Stacks of old statements bring no clue. She is tempted to go straight to Jon. Yet a likelihood that this is all just in her head stops her.

Then it starts. 

An itch just behind her left eye. She keeps on rubbing against her eye but it doesn't help. She gets back to her chair and falls into it like a puppet with her strings cut. Her fingers are smudged with ink from the statement she has been reading. It gets into her eye and makes the itch even worse.

“Shit.” Tears that have been gathering start to fall.

She squeezes both of her eyes shut but it doesn’t stop the tears from escaping. They create a wet path down her face. She tries to wipe it away, though more tears follow.

“Sasha?” Martin appears near her desk out of nowhere. “Are you okay?”

She cannot see him nonetheless the sound of his voices is enough for her to know he is worried. He must be wringing his hands and fidgeting like he does whenever Jon gets in trouble. She would smile if the stream of tears didn’t automatically make her gloomy.

“Yes, yes. I just got something in my eye. And then I rubbed it in.” She curses again.

She has curled into herself trying to hide her tears. Weeping in her workplace isn’t something she has ever wanted to do.

“Show me.” Martin coaxes. “Maybe it’s just an eyelash.”

“No. It’s…” She hesitates. “It’s something in the back. I think it is behind the eyeball.”

Martin’s breath hitches. “Oh. Well then…” He breaks off. “I will get Jon.”

The sound of his steps getting further and further away reaches her ears. The idea that it is something supernatural has been oscillating behind her closed eyes. Like a bulb caught on a string, it goes from left to right. A hypnotizing spectacle she does her best to ignore. The scratching follows the rhythm set by this idea. It may be a sign. Or it may just be a coincidence.

Martin’s reaction makes her almost certain that it is not just an eyelash stuck in her eye.

Maybe it is best that he went for Jon. She can feel fear gripping her. The itch is so strong, stronger than anything she has ever felt. She keeps on rubbing her closed eyelid though it only makes it worse. She wishes it was just a fallen eyelash.

Yet it isn’t true. She knows it’s not true. The way she knows, the feeling of certainty makes her want to vomit. She isn’t supposed to know this. It isn’t her. 

She opens her healthy eye to look around the Archives. She is alone. Martin should be back shortly with Jon and some answers. Her throat is dry and her tongue is stuck. Although she is going to get the truth she is certain it isn’t going to be to her liking. 

Her gaze comes back to Tim’s desk. Old cases are strewn across it and there is no clue hidden anywhere to tell her where he must have gone.

The itch gets stronger. 

There is a scratching sound coming from somewhere inside her head. Tiny claws pushing against her eyeball. They don’t pull forward, only put pressure to catch her attention.

She gets up with difficulty. She circles her desk while leaning strongly against it. Each step makes the itch stronger. She hopes it won’t transform into a pain. Step after step she drags her legs until she is standing in front of Tim’s desk.

There is still nothing important on it. Yet something makes her open both of her eyes. Like a string pulling her eyelid up this weird feeling also pulls her hand away from her face. 

The feeling pooling inside her head bursts forward. She falls forwards and catches herself on the desk. The moment her hands touch the wood she can see Tim. The wood cuts uncomfortably into her palm but the feeling is somewhere far away. She can see what Tim has done yesterday, where he has gone. She can see his conversation with Jon.

And feel his fear and excitement about the new book. It tastes bitter. More importantly, it is an invasion of his privacy. She doesn’t want this. She tries to pull back, but her hands are attached to the desk. 

There is still a part of her fully aware of where her body is. That part tries to ignore the picture of _Tim going back home, looking through his flat searching for something._ She puts all of her strength into yanking her hand away. Her muscles go taunt but the skin seems to be stuck against the wood.

Then she feels his fear. _Something is wrong. Someone has been to his flat._ Any thought of escape disappears. If Tim is in danger she needs to know. It doesn’t stop that guilty pleasurable feeling of seeing something she isn’t supposed to. And it isn’t enough to quench all of the fear she feels. 

_Tim searches his flat._ She follows each of his quiet steps with bated breath. _There is no one in the living room. His bedroom is safe. He is turning around to check in his bathroom when suddenly there is a pain in his neck_ and Sasha is pulled out of the vision.

She is back in the Archives. There is a cool hand on her wrist. There is cold sweat trailing down her neck yet her skin feels so hot she is sure she has a fever. Her eyes follow up the line of her forearm, take notice of slender fingers holding her, and then focus on a pen she is holding between her curled fingers. It belongs to Tim. It was on the desk when she looked through it. It is one of the standard office supplies. The tip is positioned just in front of her itching eye. Her eyes cross when she tries to look at it.

“Sasha.” She hears Jon’s voice like it is coming from miles away. 

It is enough for her to turn her gaze away. She lets go of the pen and purposely doesn’t watch it fall. The sound of it hitting the ground gives her the strength to look at Jon.

He looks ruffled. His hair is sticking in different directions even though most of it is caught in a band at the back of his head.

“Jon.” Her voice trembles. “I saw… Someone has attacked Tim.”

“I know.” His voice sounds more real. 

His fingers squeeze her wrist before slowly lowering their holding hands. He gently turns her away from the desk. Martin is standing not far from them. The frown on his face makes him look a decade older than she knows he is.

“We need to help him.” She tries to put the urgency she feels coiling in her stomach into her voice. 

Jon lets go of her hand. He runs his fingers through his hair. 

“I have been looking for him all morning.” His shoulder slump. “I cannot see him. This shouldn't be possible.” He murmurs the last sentence to himself.

“Do we know who has taken him?” Martin interjects.

“It wasn’t the Circus.” Jon steps away from Sasha and starts walking between the desks. His hands move around when he speaks and from time to time he tugs at the sleeves of his shirt pulling it down so it covers his wrist. It ends up moving up his forearm anyway. “I’ve checked Orsinov and they are still readying the Unknowing. It’s someone else.”

“Well, you have talked to the Web recently.” Martin fidgets. “I don’t think they would go back on their word but maybe they have something to do with this.”

Jon stops for a second. “No, I don’t think they would.” He is facing them yet his gaze is looking at something very far away. His eyes roll back and he shudders. The light flickers over him and there are scars visible on his face and neck. They move with his breathing.

Sasha moves to get closer to him. She wants to make sure he won’t hurt himself if he collapses but a hand on her shoulder stops her. 

“It’s alright. He does it sometimes.” Martin assures her. A wince on his face proves he isn’t happy about it either.

“What is he doing?” She whispers back. The curiosity wins the battle with fear and revulsion.

“He is looking through the things he knows. I think.” Martin’s eyes squint. 

“I need to ask you…” She starts but Jon’s voice interrupts her.

“It’s not the Web. It’s the Flame. They got him.” Jon scowls. His eyes are back to normal, observing them. “I cannot see where they are holding him. However, there aren’t many places I don’t have access to.” 

“So we look through all of them to find Tim?” Martin doesn’t sound happy with his proposition.

“Not all of them. Certainly at least one of them belongs to the Stranger, the other to the Dark.” Jon licks his lips. “Others may be shielded from me by the artifacts that hold a strong bond to other powers. Once I can narrow them down to the places belonging to the Desolation we will know where to look.”

“The statements,” Sasha interjects. “There must be some mentions about the places you have seen.”

Jon nods. He looks proud of her which isn’t something she would usually take that much notice of but now it fills her with such a warm feeling it almost makes her forget about the cold dread still gripping her stomach.

“I will write down the locations I cannot see clearly. They couldn't have taken him too far from London if they had even left.” He looks around for something to write on.

Sasha looks down under her feet. The pen is still there, just where it has fallen from her hand. Cold sweat breaks over her skin. It feels like a test when she kneels to pick it up. Her fingers close on the smooth surface. It is just a pen. It doesn’t bring another vision or an urge to gouge out her eye. With a deep breath, she stands up.

Martin watches her throughout the whole process. Once he is sure she is mostly fine he decides to leave. 

“I will bring all of the statements connected to the Flame.” He tells them.

He gives Sasha a reassuring look in the hope it will give her the courage to ask Jon the question lingering at the tip of her tongue.

She smiles back when she catches his eye. Once she is alone with Jon she passes the pen and gathers her courage.

“Jon when I touched Tim’s desk… I had a vision.” She starts. “I could see what happened yesterday. And there was an itch. Just behind my eye.” She looks for more words to convey the strange feeling of both powerlessness and being at the top of the world. She makes a gesture towards her face but aborts it halfway there. 

Her hand nearing her face suddenly feels like a threat.

“I know.” Jon doesn’t look up from the page he has been scribbling on. “The Eye has given you the ability to learn through touch.”

“What?” She takes a step closer. Maybe she has just heard wrong.

“Your need to know has become strong enough for the Beholding to take notice. You have been researching with me for a while but now you have taken the initiative.” He explains. His brow furrows when he notes down another location. 

“So this is it for me? Tim is supposed to use fire and I can know things.” 

“I may have been wrong about Tim.” Jon finally finishes and looks up at her. His voice gets quieter and quieter as he speaks. He clears his throat. “I have seen his need for revenge so I wanted to give him an excuse to fulfill it.”

“Oh.” She blinks perplexed. “I mean, I know he has been struggling with it but I didn’t know it has been this bad.”

“It’s not his fault…”

“I am not saying it is.” She clarifies impatiently. “I just know that at the start he has been getting better and better at using what that book had to offer but it has gotten worse. He has been so prickly about it I stopped mentioning it.”

Jon nods. “I should have foreseen that.” He shakes his head. “To be able to use a certain power you must be ready to give something up for it. And here and now Tim doesn’t want to give this up.” Sasha opens her mouth to ask another question but Jon quiets her with a look. His green eyes narrow, signaling he isn’t finished. “The Flame is good for those ready to burn things they have cared about. It is about the destruction of those we loved and those we hated. Now Tim loves too much to want to destroy.”

“Loves?” She bites her lip. “It seems far-fetched.”

“And yet it worked.” Jon runs his hand through his hair. “I almost made him give everything up because I forgot that everything has a price.” He grips his hair and for a moment Sasha is sure he is going to pull on them.

“Emotions have never been your strong fort.” Martin's reassuring voice breaks the foreboding mood. He lowers the bunch of files on the desk and swiftly moves to Jon.

He takes the hand still tangled in the hair and pulls it away from the strands. He kisses Jon’s knuckles with so much care Sasha feels like she has to look away. “Which is why we should talk about such choices.”

“Yes, yes.” Martin’s action appears to soothe Jon.

“And maybe I need to talk to Elias about encouraging you in those cases.” The redhead sounds amused but there is a hint of the true intent behind his words.

“Just promise to leave him in one piece.” Jon teases back.

It feels like there are in their world, all of the worries forgotten. Sasha turns her head away. It isn’t time for envy. She has decided not to envy Jon the moment she has learned about his promotion to the Head Archivist. Seeing him now, changed and scarred, she doesn’t find it that hard to uphold this promise. Yet the gentle tone he uses toward Martin makes her want to scream. They don’t have time for this. Each minute Tim is out there alone threatens the possibility that she will see him again.

“I have written down all of the addresses I have no access to. We find the ones connected to the Desolation and we may find Tim.” Jon announces in his normal voice.

She feels ready to turn back and get to work.

* * *

“Why can’t you just know which ones are connected to the Desolation? You know the addresses in those statements?” Sasha asks after an hour of checking. 

She is certain that Tim would be proud of her. He has always hated unnecessary work. 

“I cannot make a connection.” Jon looks up from the paper he has been looking through. “It might be caused by the fact I am the Archive.” At her raised eyebrows he tries to explain. “I know things but making connections doesn’t come this easily to me. Normally I would be able to push through though the artifacts may be able to keep me away.” His brow furrows. “Which means they must know about me.”

She mulls it over. Jon treats her silence as a sign he should get back to work. The statements feel empty. The hum inside of him doesn’t need feeding but a piece of new knowledge from this new world is always a treat. All the papers in front of him are old. The staleness of the fear inside of them makes him want to gag. He knows those things except only a list laying just next to the statement he is reading helps him check whatever the location matches.

It feels like there is a wall inside of his mind not letting him make the connection. Half of his mind is focused on checking but the other runs against that wall time and time again. He tries to make himself see the string connecting the dark places on the map and his knowledge. 

The wall looms over him. He cannot literally see it, nonetheless the bricks of which it is made leave scratches against his mind each time he rams into it. It feels colossal and sturdy. It is there just because there are some Powers that oppose him. Powers that have followers willing to take his Assistant. It irks him.

He tries to go over the wall, under it, around it. For a moment he tries to think about anything else so his mind can reset and overcome the wall on its own. It doesn’t work. 

He dives into the hum inside of him, hoping against everything that it will somehow help. Everything around him looks sharper. The smell of old paper, ink, and stale air attack his nose. He can hear Sasha’s breathing, Martin’s heartbeat, the movement of water in the pipes. He knows how many people are there in the Institute. 

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him. He knows how the paper on which they are written has been made. He knows everything about the ink in which it has been written. His mind moves to the contents of the statement. Each participant has their life story revealed to him. He knows their fears, what they want, and who they love. His eyes move to the locations and he sees the name of the street, the number of the house. In no way does it link with the lines written on the list.

It would prove reassuring if not for the fact the moment he gets back to himself and pushes the list next to the written address he finds the match. 

He curses under his breath. There is no use in trying to fight it.

He doesn’t have time. Each minute that passes leaves Tim in the care of the Cult of the Lightless Flame. He cannot fathom what they want to do with him.

Yet there is a part of him he tries to desperately quiet that tells him it is his fault. That he has put Tim in their way and now his assistant has to pay the price.

He pushes the thought away. He needs to focus on finding Tim. 

* * *

They have narrowed down the list to five locations when Basira arrives in the Archives. She looks as surprised as they do when she enters the hall only to be stared down by three rough looking people. She thinks quickly on her feet.

“I have something to inform you about it.” She announces.

She gets closer, her eyes moving quickly from one person to another. She takes in Jon’s ruffled state, Sasha’s fidgeting, and Martin’s frown.

“I hope I am not intruding on anything.” She remarks.

“You are.” Martin sounds apologetic enough that she almost believes him. “We have an urgent matter to attend to.”

“At the Archives?” She turns her head to a side.

“Yes, we also have work to do here.” She has managed to anger Martin. 

She feels like it is an achievement she doesn’t want to repeat.

“One of my Assistants is missing.” Her gaze snaps to Jon. His green eyes are looking right back at her. “He has been taken by a cult.”

It throws her back a little. There is no exact procedure to follow here.

“When?” She manages.

“Yesterday evening.” The girl, Sasha answers.

Basira clearly remembers the look that has passed between her and the missing Tim during the investigation. It explains her state.

“And what are you trying to do?” Basira gets closer. She can see a bunch of folders lying in front of all of them. Each of them has also a list of what she can only guess are addresses.

“We are looking for the place they may have taken him to. We have five possible locations.”

“Are you going to call the police?”

“We don’t need more sectioned officers.”

Her breath leaves her. As far as she knows she has been the only one in contact with the Archives. And she hasn't said a word.

She feels like she needs to change her opinion about Jonathan Sims. The man knows much more than his fidgety librarian look would imply.

“So what? You three are going to fight a cult?” She crosses her arms.

She can feel the but of her gun digging against her elbow. The holster keeps it in place and reassures her whenever she feels uncertain. It is one of those situations.

“I will go there,” Jon informs her. “I won’t be alone though.”

“So you have a backup.” She concludes.

“Of sorts.” She clicks her tongue. She hates it when people try to be unnecessary mysterious. “You can come too.”

“What?” Martin is faster than her. “Jon? She is an officer.” She is sure he has meant to say ‘that officer’.

“I may need some additional help and neither you nor Sasha are equipped for a fight. I have never seen Micheal fighting against fire and I do not wish to put it in unnecessary danger.” Jon stands up from his chair.

Basira is surprised by his height again. For such a small man he feels larger than life. 

“I am still a police officer.” She notices. 

“Yes, but you are already sectioned.” He waves his hand. “And Tim’s life is more important.”

“And how will we know which of those five locations is going to be the one we will find your employee at?”

“We will check them.” 

“Now?” 

Jon looks her up and down. “Every minute we spend here is another minute Tim is in their hands. I would prefer to do it now.”

He turns around and starts walking towards one of the walls. Basira looks between him and his assistants. Martin’s mouth is open however he doesn’t let out a sound. He finally sighs and quickly gets up. He almost runs after Jon so he can turn him around and kiss him. It starts chaste but gets deeper when Jon turns fully towards his boyfriend.

The scene makes Basira turn her head away and look at Sasha. The other woman is gripping her desk so tightly her knuckles have turned white. When she notices she is being observed she catches Basira’s gaze.

“Bring them back safe.” She tells her.

“Fine.” Basira knows that Daisy will kill her once she finds out. 

Unless she dies during their raid on some cult. She curses the day she has become sectioned. Yet she cannot let one man go against a cult.

The unease she feels in her stomach doesn't settle when she sends a short message to Daisy. It only gets worse. Yet she feels safer knowing that her partner knows where she will be going to. A backup in case her decision backfires. She is almost certain it will.

A sigh from behind her is a sign she can look back. Jon and Martin are finally apart. The Archivist gestures at her so she follows.

“Tell Elias what is going on, in case he hasn’t been watching.” Jon squeezes Martin’s hand before letting go and turning towards a door that hasn’t been there before.

Just before they reach it Basira is reminded of why she has even visited the Archives.

“None of you have killed Gertrude Robinson. You have been proven innocent.” She speaks loud enough that she is sure that both Martin and Sasha hear her.

A chuckle from Jon and a quiet “I know.” makes a shudder run down her spine. Damn, Daisy was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter to build some tension. is Daisy going to flip once she gets the message 'hi remember the strange archivist? well I'm going to kill some cultist with him'? probable. and is Sasha paying her own price for her powers? yes. i don't want to say outright how but hey maybe it will become more clear soon. or maybe you have noticed already.   
> oh and BTW you can follow me on tumblr if you want to get notifications whenever I post something, be it an update for this fic or just some new AU brewing inside my brain


	15. Chapter 15

Basira takes surprisingly well to the corridors. Jon monitors her thoughts as they descent down one of the green padded ones. The mirrors show her trailing after him, looking around and gripping her gun. Her knuckles turn white as her hold gets tighter and tighter. She compares all she is seeing to the previous knowledge about bizarre things happening around London. She tries to remember if any of the cases concerned strange corridors running deep into the underground. Or just impossible corridors.

“Where exactly are we going?” She catches Jon's eye in the mirror.

“To a museum. There is an artifact there.” He explains.

He reasons he doesn't have enough time to explain everything though as long as they are getting closer to Tim he can talk Basira through it. 

“I can only know if Tim is there if I see the place with my own eyes.” His shoulders drop down. 

He is ashamed of his own failure. The world doesn't listen to his every whim but it still comes as a surprise each time he finds another way it can overcome his powers. It is a guilty pleasure of his. The new knowledge feeds the hum inside his stomach and makes a shudder run up his spine. 

“And those corridors will take us there? Shouldn't they go under the Insitute?”

“They should.” Another voice answers Basira. It grates on her ears. “Maybe it even does. Who knows?”

In one of the corridors, adjacent to the one they are going down, a tall creature stands. Its blond hair moves even though there is no wind.

“Micheal,” Jon exclaims with relief. “I need you.”

“Yhm.” It smiles widely. 

“The Desolation took Tim. I need to bring him back. In one piece preferably.”

“Of course. We won’t let anything happen to one of yours.” The creature joins them on their walk to another yellow door.

It appears so suddenly that Basira has to assure herself it hasn’t been there before. She has been checking. Jon just accepts its existence, too focused on Micheal. He interlinks his fingers with those belonging to the creature. The heat of its skin and the rough texture of callouses that shouldn't even exist brings him comfort. Hand in hand they close in on the door.

“I do not know if this is the one,” Jon repeats. “But we should act like it is.”

Basira takes it as her cue to ready her weapon. Micheal only smiles wider.

“I should be able to contain their power yet in case of anything going wrong just get back inside. I will manage.” Jon takes a deep breath in to quiet the unease browning in his stomach.

“What should I.. we expect if you fail to stop their powers?” Basira cocks her gun up.

“Fire. But it will probably only affect you if they manage to touch you. Or tell you a specific phrase.” A thought crosses Jon’s mind. “You have a pair of headphones in your jacket.” He doesn’t wait for Basira to nod and ignores her surprised look. “Put them in and play some music. If anything important happens I will scream.”

“Yes, sure.” If she hasn’t already witnessed what a whisper can do to a person she would have laughed. 

As it is she obediently takes her headphones out, untangles them, and puts them in.

“Are there no special measures for me, Archivist?” Micheal teases.

Jon looks it up and down. A flicker of guilt shines in his eyes.

“No, I am sorry but I have nothing for us. Have you ever stood against the Flame?”

The creature shrugs. “Not in this form, no. Yet there are times when each power tries its strength against the others. Or most of them. We all would be lost of the Spider actually tried.” Micheal chuckles.

“Will it harm you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Its smile turns almost genuine. “Do not worry, my Archivist. It cannot kill me.”

“Good. That’s good.” Jon tries to look more confident than he feels. He is sure Micheal knows it is a lie. “I don’t want to be a reason for your suffering.”

“And you won’t. I am here because I want to be.” It shrugs. “If worries like this plague you, it is high time we left.”

“Right.” Jon looks back at Basira. The music is playing loud enough he can hear it. He nods at her and when she answers with a nod of her own he turns to the door.

He tries to open them quietly. A gentle push against the handle creates enough noise to wake up the dead. With a curse grumbled under his breath, Jon doesn’t relent. He pushes the door forward. 

They open to reveal an empty breakroom. The light from bare bulbs hanging over plastic tables bathes everything in yellow light. 

Jon moves forward with Basira not far behind. He looks around, his additional eyes scanning the area behind the walls. 

He picks on the location of the artifact quickly. It resonates with his power, its hum just a little out of tune of his own. The clash it creates makes his head spin. He tries to ignore it. He isn’t here to assert his dominance over it.

Someone is coming closer to the door. At first, the knowledge passes from one of the eyes to Jon and he simply accepts it as another fact. It takes a full second for that fact to cause any reaction in him. He takes a step back and steps on Basira. He lets out a quick apology. 

He tries to search faster. Past that distracting hum, there are tourists and other artifacts strawn across the gallery. He tries looking underneath the building but there is only concrete and nothing else.

“Sims?” Basira whispers urgently.

She has pulled one of the earbuds out and waits for an explanation.

“A moment.” He turns his head up. 

There are more exhibits on the upper levels of the building but no large group of people. It isn’t the right place.

“We need to get back.” He comes back to himself and turns around.

Basira doesn’t have time to reply before Micheal grabs her arm and pulls her back into the corridor. Jon is hot on their heels. The door slams shut behind him just as the one to the break room opens.

Basira quickly disentangles herself from the creature. She wants to point out it was unnecessary but she knows her reaction time and it wouldn't have been enough to get them out before anyone noticed. She sighs. “Where to now?”

“A family-owned shop full of strange findings.”

“Is that its name?”

“No. They advertise as such.”

Another trek through the corridors is mostly spent in silence.

“You are both one of them?” Basira finally breaks.

“One of what?”

“Monsters? Creatures? Call them what you like.”

“Yes and no.”

“Thanks.” Micheal laughs at her snark.

“Micheal does consider itself a creature.”

“That I do.” It agrees. “It is hard to call me anything but. Yet dear Archivist is so much more than just a monster. Or an Avatar.” It chuckles. “I think someone like you would even be tempted to call him a god.”

“No way.” Basira scowls. Her eyes track Micheal’s expression in the reflections. “Seriously?”

Jon sighs. “I don’t ask you to believe it. I only wish you would help me with rescuing my assistant. And maybe not shooting us once we are out of this mess.”

“Or you will smack me with your godly powers?”

“I would prefer not to. The forecast hasn’t predicted any lightning for today.”

She takes it as a joke but it doesn’t help the nagging feeling that not everything is alright with this small man she is following. 

"So what is a god doing working as an Archivist?" She doesn't let up.

"I assure you the work I do mostly concerns filling out forms and cataloging files. Sometimes I write down or record statements of those who came into the contact with the supernatural."

"This isn't what I meant to ask about." She is sure he knows that.

A quick look he shares with the creature betrays him. The mirth in its eyes grows each time he dodges her questions.

"I am the Archivist." He finally answers. "It is not a function but a definition of me."

They reach another yellow door. Basira has been too caught up in watching the creatures surrendering her to know from when it appeared.

“Alright. Let’s try again.” Jon readies himself by the door.

Once again he waits until Basira plays music from her phone. Once she nods at him he opens the door. 

This time he hasn’t tried to be especially quiet. It appears there was no need for it. There is no one waiting for them. They find themselves in a small shop, cramped by many different magical items. Tarot cards lay strewn across a table, there is a collection of bones behind a glass. The wooden floor creaks when they step through the door. 

No one comes out to greet them. Jon looks around. He finds the artifact first. It isn’t a part of any of the exhibits. It answers him from somewhere deeper inside the shop. From deeper inside the earth. And just next to it is another pulse. 

“Tim,” Jon says to himself. He rushes forward. 

A counter with a cash register is hidden underneath a heavy purple cloth. He goes around it and enters the private area of the shop. A corridor leads to a backroom although there is nothing interesting there. Except for the hidden latch in the corner. 

Jon kneels down and frantically searches for an opening mechanism. He franticly moves his hands around looking for any dent in the structure. Micheal moves next to him. It gently pushes him away and without any hesitation pushes on the latch opening the entrance. Steps are leading down hidden behind them. 

Jon thanks the creature quickly. He stands up and almost runs down the stairs. He has all but forgotten about caution. Basira rushes after him. Their steps echo across the stone staircase. Torches light their way although they also create shadows dancing across the walls. She grips her gun closer. 

Jon stops suddenly when he reaches the end of the stairs. His eyes open widely to take in everything happening in front of him. 

In the middle of a huge hall, there is a stone table. It stands on an increase so everyone can see what is happening on it. Even from the back of the room, Jon can clearly see Tim bound to the table, struggling to get out as more and more strange substances are poured over him. Most of his clothes have been torn away. Several figures circle him, singing and praying in different languages. His skin is red from extorsion and the heat. 

The table is surrendered by a ring of fire that doesn’t seem to burn any of the acolytes of the Lightless Flame. People watching the ritual murmur between each other. The air is full of anticipation and wonder. 

The murmuring stops once Jude Perry stands just next to Tim’s head. She raises her hands and the singing also falls silent.

“It is time.” She says, not even raising her voice over the flame. It seems to echo with each crackle of the fire. “We have waited for the fallen prophet to usher the Scorched Earth and she has failed us. Now though we have something better, someone better. Given to us by none other but the Eye itself. A payback of sorts.” Her face twists and she bears her teeth in a parody of a smile. “The spark isn’t gone, it is still here waiting for another to take it into themselves. Each of us has wondered who it is going to be. And now we know. The one bound to the Desolation and the Watcher, just like the last prophet was born from the one and tangled with another. He will take her place and bring us to the new, wonderful world.” She lowers her hands and turns to Tim. “You have all that we need.” Her voice still echoes across the room. “The fire inside you may burn only sporadically but with little encouragement, it will burn beautifully.” She reaches for something in her pocket.

Jon knows it is a box of matches. A purely symbolical gesture since she could burn Tim with a flick of her wrist nevertheless a ritual needs all of its props.

Jon turns and tugs on Basira’s arm to get her attention. He points towards Jude. She nods, takes aim, and shoots her right into her arm. 

There is a moment of stillness when even the flames seem to die down. It lasts a second. Then all hell breaks loose. 

The dozen of people gathered outside of the circle of fire turn towards Jon and his companions. 

“We need to get Tim!” Jon shouts and rushes forward.

A woman reaches for him as he nears her. He can feel the heat rolling off her. Even before she touches his skin there is a blast of warmth. He turns and lunges with his already burned hand and catches her wrist. The fire pushing from under her skin tries to reach him but gets repealed instead. The blaze of it doesn’t lose any power and the woman screams as she starts melting. Drop after drop the wax keeping her together runs down her bones. Her hair incinerates with an ugly smell. Jon lets go of what is left of his attacker and pushes forward. 

Another man tries to stop him. This time he murmurs Sumerian phrases, long forgotten by most. He expects Jon to at least stumble. The smile that suddenly appears on the worn face is the opposite of that. The Archivist hums at the new knowledge lodging itself deeply in his stomach. With a rush of it still cruising through his veins, he reaches the man and puts his hand against his arm. He doesn’t need to chant any spells of his own for the man to freeze for a breath and then start clawing at his eyes. A litany of “No, no, no.” doesn’t stop him from seeing and feeling everything his victims have felt.

Several gunshots ring across the room as Basira takes down several other cultists. She is fast and her aim is steady, but they seem to need far more bullets than normal human beings. Micheal comes to her rescue with its razor-sharp fingers. It moves swiftly and with unseen grace. Its long limbs move from one person to another, leaving behind it a trail of red. When one of the cultists tries to sneak on Basira it suddenly appears behind him and cuts his throat. She turns just to see the man falling to his knees, clutching at his throat. She looks up surprised and when the tall creature smiles at her she nods her thanks. 

There is no use dwelling on the fact it puts much more fear in her than the cultists could ever do. She reloads her gun and looks around. Jon is near the circle of fire. She shots a person rushing towards him with a knife. It staggers them enough for Jon to reach out and touch their hand. It wilts like a flower without water.

Basira curses. She really hopes she is on the right side in this conflict.

The circle of fire turns out to be an obstacle Jon doesn't have a ready answer for. He looks behind it and he can see Jude Perry waiting for him, smiling. They both know he has no actual way across. The acolytes surrender her as they observe the Archivist’s next move. Jon walks before the circle, his mind running. 

A leap over the fire seems to be the best solution but without the bond, the Desolation is free to attack him. It can do real damage and render him unable to fight for Tim’s safety. He fidgets with his sleeves. For now, the cultists are too focused on him to continue with the ritual yet soon they will be back at it. 

Jon looks back to check on Basira and Micheal. He sees her coming closer except the creature is nowhere in sight. Jon searches the hall yet it proves fruitless. A nagging worry starts forming in his mind but then he spots the familiar figure walking from outside of the yellow door. Underneath its arm, two fire extinguishers dangle. Jon smiles so hard it hurts.

“You seem to have forgotten it the last time,” Micheal tells him with a grin of its own.

“You really think it will be enough to stop the Flame?” Jude taunts them from behind the circle.

She has moved over to Tim’s head. The box of matches is once again in her hands but she has to hand it to the other acolyte. Blood oozes from the wound on her shoulder. 

“I am not stupid.” Jon bristles. “Use it!” He tosses one of the extinguishers to Basira. 

She barely catches it with the gun still in her hand. She scowls but looks at the place Jon is poting at. She hides her weapon in the holster. Both she and Micheal stand at the opposite sides of Jon and just when he nods they turn on the fire extinguishers. 

There is only enough foam inside of them for half a minute of work. It is enough for Jon to jump over the lowered flames. As he touches the ground he can feel all of those recently hidden behind it. Their stories call to him and he  **knows** them. The hum inside him buzzes with satisfaction.

“What now Archivist?” Jude uses her healthy hand to light up a match. 

Jon leaps forward. He pushes on the knowledge revealed to him just seconds ago and shapes it into a weapon. It reaches all of those gathered around them. 

It no longer shows them what their victims went through separately. No, each member can see the victims of every other and the additional agony makes their screams so much louder. Even Jude lets out a shriek loud enough it could shatter glass. He invades their minds, corners them in the deepest parts of their souls. He presses on until they have to give. Heat, desperation and pain rushes in. 

Jude releases her hold on the match. It falls.

Down.

And down.

Just before it reaches Tim’s face it is caught between Jon’s fingers. He holds the wood tightly between his fingers and pulls back. The rush of air makes the fire suddenly grow larger and it travels down the match. Before Jon can comprehend what is happening it reaches his fingers. His hand bursts into flames. He screams start just as others quiet down.

He has forgotten how much it hurt. The smell of burning human flesh fills the air. He falls to his knees and cradles his hand to his chest. The flames stop as they reach his wrist. It is enough.

With tears streaming down his face he looks up at the circle of fire and extinguishes it with a shake of his head. Suddenly the hall is silent. Basira looks down the pit surrendering the stone table before deciding to take the leap of fate. She jumps over it and steps over the crumbled bodies of the cultists. She kneels next to Jon. 

“Get Tim out.” He croaks.

She nods, glad the earphones have fallen out. His voice is so fragile she couldn't have heard it otherwise. She pushes herself up and takes stock of the man lying on the stone table. His clothes are torn and there are bloodstains over his shirt. 

“I’m going to untie those ropes.” She informs him in her calmest voice. She makes quick work of the knots holding him down. She helps him sit up.

Jon looks from his burnt hand. He takes Tim in, all the bruises and split lip. Their eyes meet and his assistant cracks a tired grin.

“And here goes my chance for the fireballs.” He jokes.

Jon smiles back. His hand aches but with Tim safe, it is not important.

“Seems so. I will leave keeping you alive to Sasha then.”

Tim snorts. “It’s not like she is already half of my impulse control.”

Micheal helps Jon up. The Archivist leans on it. 

“Let’s get back.” 

“Can you walk?” Basira asks Tim.

“Probably. Just not too fast. No races for me.”

She nods. With a bit of maneuvering, they get Tim over the pit and help him reach the yellow door. They leave the bodies behind. Basira expects it to be a nightmare once she has to do the explaining. 

Jon cradles his hand throughout their walk to the Archives. The rough skin of the healed burns scrapes against the fresh marks uncomfortably. He wishes for cool water and maybe the gel Martin has bought him for his scars. Micheal offers comfort by draping its long arm over Jon’s shoulders. It proves enough of a distraction that Jon can keep himself from whimpering. The creature is incredibly gentle when it pushes him towards the exit. 

It doesn’t deter him from noticing the burns on its sweater and the state of the rag they are going over. The charred material reflects the state of the clothes he hasn’t noticed before. He stops and turns towards it. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Of course, I am, dear Archivist.” It chuckles. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“The burns…”

“It’s nothing that won’t heal with time. Or after a healthy meal.” It brushes away a lock of hair that has fallen on Jon’s face.

“Fine,” Jon grumbles. “But we are spending some time on the couch together after this.”

“Of course.”

“You coming?” Tim calls from up ahead. 

He and Basira have reached the door. Jon moves to join them, but Micheal is quicker. It catches his lips in a deep yet swift kiss. While Jon’s mind is still reeling from the surprise it turns him and steers him towards the rest.

The yellow door opens up before them.

Outside an interesting sight greets them. Elias stands before Daisy, fully comfortable and smiling. Over his relaxed shoulders, they can see Daisy scowling at him. Her shoulders are raised up to her ears. Her grip on the gun telegraphs her intent even if her scowl didn’t promise death. Martin and Sasha stand to the side, watching them with worry clear in their eyes.

“I assure you that detective you are looking for isn’t in the Institute.” Elias’s calm voice rings through the hall. 

“You are lying. She has sent me her location. I know she was here.”

“Was, yes. But she no longer…” He stops and lets out a deep breath. “Ah, it seems I’ve been mistaken.” He corrects himself.

Martin gasps and makes a move towards the coming party. One snarl from Daisy stops him in his tracks. Elias takes a step to the side, letting Daisy see Basira but not taking his eyes off the blond officer. The women share a long look. Basira tries to assure her partner with a nod that everything is alright. The frown she gets puts her at ease with its familiarity. 

“We need a squad at a magic shop.” Basira helps Tim with getting into one of the chairs before coming closer. “A cult has tried to conduct a ritual there.”

“A cult? And you went alone.” Daisy looks her up and down. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious.”

Daisy sighs. Her eyes move to the people accompanying Basira. One look and she knows that they are not human. Two monsters stare at her unabashedly. A growl builds in her throat that she is sure they can hear. The smaller of the two creatures looks her in the eye and doesn’t let off until she is the first one to blink. The unease in her stomach builds.

“The Lightless Flame is gone.” The Archivist tells Elias. His voice is raspy. “They tried to bind Agnes’s power to Tim but with no use.”

It makes Elias look away from Daisy. He peers at Jon and takes in his curled posture. His eyes move to Micheal, checking on the creature though soon he is again focused on the Archivist. 

Martin and Sasha use Daisy’s distraction to get closer. Sasha rushes to Tim. Her hands are gentle when she touches his shoulder and then cradles his face in her palms. They share a long look and she lets out a broken laugh when Tim tries to smile and wink at her.

Martin gets to Jon as swiftly. His hands wrench with worry and it doesn’t get better when he sees the state of Jon’s hand. Even hidden against his belly it looks awful. The redness of the skin and the star-like welts in the place where the match hit the skin indicate how much pain he must be in.

“Jon…” Martin’s voice breaks at the end.

“It will heal.” Jon rushes to assure him. “It’s not that bad.”

“I doubt it.” Elias also gets closer but he is careful not to turn his back to Daisy.

Only when Micheal sends him a wide smile does he relent. He focuses fully on Jon, his mind prodding against the Archivist. It feels wonderful to have him back in the Archives, especially after such a scare.

“Ah. You have bound the Flame.” Elias smiles. “Wonderful.”

“I would have preferred a less painful way.” Jon scowls.

“Aren’t the most important things often hard to get.” Micheal chuckles. “At least that’s what you believe.”

“Hard to get and setting yourself on fire aren’t exactly the same,” Tim calls from his seat.

“And one person shouldn't have to try to get all of the important things on their own.” Martin adds with a sigh.

“Yes, yes. But it’s done.” Jon shakes his head. “The Desolation is bound and they won’t be a problem.”

“Another thing under your control.” Elias nods. “I am glad.”

“It’s not about control. Or not only…” Jon leans into Micheal. “The important thing is that the Lightless Flame is gone.”

“Quite. We should find some ice for your hand.” Elias turns back towards the police officers. “If you would excuse us we have things we need to attend to.”

“Fine.” Daisy doesn’t look happy, but her attention is split between glaring at Elias and Basira. “Still we aren’t done here.”

“Just send us the address of the store we were at.” Basira sounds much less confrontational.

“Of course.” Jon agrees. 

Basira gently tugs on Daisy. The women exit and it is only when they reach the exit of the Institute that Daisy starts her lecture.

“I would also very much like to go back home. Or maybe not home. Those guys did break-in.” Tim hesitates. “Just somewhere where I can shower and maybe sleep for the next week.”

“You can stay with me.” Sasha proposes.

“Thank you.”

“I will not keep you here,” Elias says. “You can have a week off.”

“Sweet. Although I don’t know if I shouldn't go to a hospital. They hit me a few times, broke the skin, and I can feel pain each time I either breath or walk so…”

“Nothing is broken,” Jon assures him. “You have a lot of bruises forming.”

Tim sends him a tired look which conveys how much over the whole weirdness he is. “Sure, thanks.”

He leans heavily on Sasha while they walk out. It leaves Jon alone with his partners. He looks at them. Each of them shows worry in a different way. Martin’s open expression tells him all he needs to know. Elias’s taxing look and the way his mind moves against Jon’s betrays his feelings. Micheal just leans against him, a steady presence at his side. The other monster is also tired even if it doesn’t complain. Its smile is a little more forced than usual.

“We should move it somewhere else.” Elias decides.

“My flat,” Jon says.

“I will make sure they get there.” Martin gets Elias’s attention by tugging on his arm. “You have a meeting, remember?”

“Yes.” A corner of Elias’s mouth moves down betraying his mood. “I do. I will join you in the evening then.”

Jon doesn’t want to be rude but the scorching heat encompassing his hand makes him impatient. He just nods at Elias and makes his way back to the yellow door. He sees no sense in traveling through London in his state. Micheal takes a second longer to grin at the Watcher before the monster is helping Jon keep steady on his way towards its corridors. Martin takes his bag and Jon’s things before hurrying after them. Luckily they do not move too fast in their injured state so soon he catches up. He takes Jon’s other side and they disappear behind the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the action scenes aren't really my thing, still I try! Happy New Year everyone!  
> UPDATE: for now this will be all. do I have further plans for Elias and the Extinction? Sure. Do I have a vision of Tim using guns to shoot the Circus' creatures instead of fireballs? You betch' ya. Unfortunately, I do not have the brainpower currently to connect those dots and pressing myself into continuing has proven to give meager results. So for now think of the ot4 having a break on Jon's couch and cuddling.

**Author's Note:**

> English is my second language so I'm really really sorry for all of the stupid mistakes I make. Grammarly sometimes fails me and i suck at noticing typos. I keep rereading old chapters each time i post so i am correcting things I swear  
> For updates do follow me on tumblr: [ kiirian](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiirian)


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